


Second Heat

by Becstar7



Series: The Alpha-Omega Bond [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alpha Draco, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dom Draco, Dom/sub, Drama, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Fluff, Knotting, M/M, Omega Harry Potter, Sexual Content, Spoilers, Sub Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3451949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Becstar7/pseuds/Becstar7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, Voldemort is dead, and Harry has his Alpha wrapped around his little finger. So when his body goes into its second heat, it should have been good – easier, even, this time around. But since when is anything ever easy for Harry Potter? Sequel to Harry Potter and the Alpha-Omega Bond. Contains knotting, marking, soul-bonds, and Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> JK Rowling et al. own all characters etc. this story is based on. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> This story contains attempted non-con, so please read with caution (or not at all!) if this is a possible trigger for you. Everyone else, please enjoy!

The sun beat down on the gentle, rolling hills of Dorset, unseasonably warm for an afternoon in May. It made sweat trickle into Harry's eyes, the grip on his wand turning slippery as he stared down at Voldemort's smoking corpse. He made to take a step back, stumbled, and almost fell. Draco caught his elbow, a pale blur on the edge of his vision. 

“Easy, Harry,” Draco said, as if from very far away. 

Harry nodded numbly. His head felt heavy; full of cotton wool. There was an odd roaring in his ears. Voldemort was _dead_. Just an ugly, broken body in the middle of a no-name field in country Dorset, of all places, where they'd finally discovered one of his Unplottable bases.

“We did it,” he said, unable to look away from the body of the wizard who had caused so much pain, so much grief. Voldemort had _murdered_ his parents. Sirius. Cedric. He’d destroyed _lives_ , torn families apart. Killed thousands of innocents in his cowardly guerrilla attacks. Came far, far too close to killing Draco at Malfoy Manor, just two months ago.

And now – now it was _over_.

“We did it,” he said again, finding Draco's eyes at last. His Alpha was too thin, cheeks sunken and his eyes hollow, robes hanging off him in all the wrong places – the result of too many months with too little food, forcing Harry to take the lion's share of even his tiny portion, again and again. He looked ready to collapse now; he'd used their bond to funnel as much of his magic as he could stand to lose (and probably more) into Harry for the final confrontation. 

_The power of love_ , Harry thought ironically, remembering Dumbledore's words from so long ago.

“You shouldn't have given me so much,” he said, but Draco just smiled wearily.

“Doesn't matter now. You did it.”

“We –” Harry started to correct him, but then he staggered under the weight of a body slamming into his, and he was spitting out a mouthful of bushy brown hair. “Hermione,” he said, as she shrieked into his ear. The unexpectedly loud noise broke through the bubble he'd been standing in since Voldemort's Killing Curse had rebounded, and he realised the dull, thunderous sound in his ears he’d attributed to shock was actually the triumphant roars of the survivors.

The battle was over.

“We won!” Hermione yelled, pulling back, her face flushed and happy even through the sweat and the grime and the blood that seeped from a nasty-looking head wound. “We _won_! You _did_ it, Harry!”

Harry took a deep breath, feeling the tugs and aches of bruises and what he suspected were cracked ribs. Voldemort had taken great pleasure in throwing him around, torturing him with repeated applications of the Cruciatus Curse, before Draco had somehow managed to break through the lines to his side.

Hermione's face was beginning to fall, worry creeping in around her eyes, so Harry tried a smile. “ _We_ did it, Hermione,” he said, glancing over at Draco. “All of us.”

She smiled back at him, tears suddenly filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks, making tracks through the dirt and grime. “We did it,” she agreed. “Oh Merlin, Harry, we did it!”

“Damn _right_ we did,” Ron exclaimed. He laughed and slapped Harry’s back, hard, shoving him forward into Hermione’s arms. The hurt noise that escaped Harry’s lips was entirely unintentional, but he couldn’t argue with the result: Draco was there instantly, urging Hermione out of the way gently, shoving Ron away not-so-gently. He ran his hands down Harry’s sides, his eyes dark and questioning.

“Hurts,” Harry admitted.

Draco nodded, and closed his eyes, shifting his hand to cover Harry’s heart. 

“Draco, _no_ ,” Harry protested, but Ron was there already, slapping his Alpha’s hand away.

“Don't be a fool, Malfoy!” he said sharply. “You don’t even know what’s wrong! Last time you did that, you almost _died_.” The addendum ‘you idiot’ was left off, but clearly meant, and Harry winced as Draco’s eyes flashed.

“He’s right, you know,” Hermione said quickly, before Draco could unleash the full, terrifying bite of his scathing tongue on her boyfriend. “Harry has a higher pain threshold than you.” She frowned a little. “Or, at least, he’s better at coping with it. You were in a much, _much_ better physical condition last time. This time – you’re practically dead on your feet. His injuries really _could_ kill you.”

“A stiff _wind_ would knock you over right now,” Ron agreed.

Draco snarled. “He’s _my_ –”

“Mate. Yes,” Harry agreed, pressing a kiss to the corner of Draco’s mouth. It was pleasantly cool against his burning lips, and he lingered there for a moment, closing his eyes, just enjoying the closeness. And if it was also a sure-fire way to divert Draco's attention away from his friends... well, that was just an added bonus. Really, he knew they meant well, but he was exhausted and too hot and slightly lightheaded, and he couldn't deal with an argument (read: pissing contest) right now.

“I’d really rather you didn’t, Draco,” he said quietly, deliberately angling his body to shut his friends out of the conversation. “I’m pretty sure I have some cracked ribs, and yours never did heal properly after the Manor.”

Draco’s jaw worked. “You just killed _Voldemort_. You’re in shock. You don’t know what you’re saying –”

“Draco,” Harry said, patiently, and his Alpha scowled and whirled away.

“Madam Pomfrey,” he snapped out. “Where is she?”

“Not far,” Hermione assured him. “She's set up a medi-tent for the wounded – I took Remus there earlier. He's fine, Harry," she said, seeing his face. "He jumped in front of a wasting curse meant for Tonks, but we managed to slow its progress long enough to get him to Madam Pomfrey. She said it would take some time, but she could reverse it.”

Harry sighed, and let himself lean on Draco when the other boy wrapped an arm around his waist.

Hermione led the way, Ron falling into step at Harry's other side as they were swarmed, people approaching them with hands eagerly outstretched, wanting to offer their congratulations, their thanks, to shake Harry’s hand or touch his shoulder, or pull him into a hug. There were tears and shouts of joy, and really Harry just wanted to find a quiet place and curl up with his Alpha and sleep for a month, but he knew they needed him – needed Harry Potter; their leader, their _Saviour_ , the Boy Who Lived and the young man who had defeated Voldemort at last.

“You’re exhausted and nursing broken ribs,” Draco said quietly, arm tightening around him possessively. “This can wait. _They_ can wait.”

Harry nodded, relieved that the decision had been taken out of his hands, and trying not to feel too guilty for that. He felt like he might collapse at any moment, and Draco was hardly any more steady on his feet, but they kept each other upright through sheer force of will, and perhaps a little left-over shared magic, and Ron and Hermione kept them moving through the growing crowd. 

Fortunately, respect for the personal boundaries of the only known, bonded Alpha-Omega couple in the wizarding world kept most people at bay, and Ron and Hermione were able to handle the rest. He nodded at familiar faces, beyond glad that they had made it, but too tired to even call out to them. 

Luna. Neville. Seamus and Dean. Hagrid. Molly and Arthur. Ginny. The twins, arms slung around each other and pale, freckled faces split into two with their grins. They waved, and Harry waved back weakly, and then winced at the sudden, sharp pain that shot through his ribs.

“ _Potter_ ,” Draco hissed unhappily. He fumbled for his wand (an indication of just how tired they both were, Harry thought; they rarely used their wands for anything but the most complex spells, now), and murmured, “ _Ferula_.” 

Harry felt bandages wrapping around his torso, and there was an instant lessening of pain. He relaxed, letting out a slow breath. “Idiot,” Draco said, pulling him closer. He was stark white and trembling with exhaustion, and Harry opened his mouth to return the compliment.

But the air he drew in was suddenly too thick, too hot, and he felt like he was burning up. The heat of his Alpha was almost _unbearable_ pressed up against his side, and he pulled away, almost staggering at the loss.

“Harry?” Draco's face swam anxiously in his vision.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione said. “Harry? We’re almost there – it’s just over this hill.”

Harry ignored her, reaching out for his Alpha, alarmed at the way Draco was swaying. Or was that him? “I feel – odd,” he said, pressing a hand to his forehead. 

And then everything went dark.

~*~

He woke up in the infirmary, squinting against the harsh glare of the overhead lights. It was dark outside, and he felt an odd sense of displacement, like the time he'd had a too-long nap in the afternoon and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, only to discover it was just dinnertime. He flung out a hand to the bedside table for his glasses, and encountered Draco’s hand, instead.

“Here,” Draco said, pressing the familiar wire-frames into his hand. 

Harry pushed the glasses up his nose, and then blinked at his Alpha, confused. “What happened?” he said. He’d been hungry and sleep-deprived and in so much pain that only now it was gone could he recognise just how bad it had been. And now... he felt _good_. Healthy.

Draco looked different, too; he was clean, and he’d changed into robes Harry hadn't seen in a long time – the nice ones he used to wear, before they went on the run. Hermione hadn't thought to pack anything for Draco; back then, they had still been more than a little distrustful of the Slytherin Harry had chosen as his Alpha, and it hadn't even occurred to Hermione that he might come with them.

Harry could have told her he would, if she'd asked. If there was one thing Harry had always known about his mate, right from the start – right from the moment Draco had staggered into the safe haven he’d created in Harry's mind, bloody and on the verge of death after fighting a battle with a Horcrux for Harry’s _soul_ – it was that his Alpha would do _anything_ for him. No matter the cost.

It was actually quite frightening, to be the one person Draco Malfoy would always put first, before even his own self-preservation. Fortunately, Harry had developed ways of ensuring it never went too far.

Like:

_“Draco, if you don’t eat, you’ll be too weak to help me when we face Voldemort, and I’ll die. Do you really want that?”_

And:

_“I’m not leaving you to face this Horcrux alone! Dumbledore died because of one of these. Are you really going to copy his mistakes? Are you really that selfish? You know what will happen to me without you! I'll be forced to bond with another Alpha – forced to submit to someone who doesn't love me, who’ll rape me day after day for the rest of my life –”_

It worked. It always worked. Because Draco was frightened of losing Harry, but the idea of Draco dying _first_ – terrified the hell out of both of them. 

That the world was not kind to Omegas was an understatement. Severus Snape was living proof of that, and Harry considered himself a close second, even if he had been lucky enough to have been bonded to someone who really loved him, despite their rocky start.

He studied Draco now, frowning. He still looked tired and worried, with dark circles under his eyes, but his sunken, pale cheeks had filled out, and had colour again, and his robes couldn’t hide how much _better_ he looked, how _well_ , something that all the spells and potions in Madam Pomfrey’s supply couldn’t do alone. It meant _time_.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“A week,” Draco admitted.

“A –” Harry just gaped at him for a moment, speechless. “A _week_?” he managed, choked with fury. “What the _hell_ , Draco! You made Madam Pomfrey keep me under, didn’t you? You have to stop _doing_ this! They _needed_ me; you can’t just make a unilateral decision to –”

Draco didn’t say that it was his legal right to do just that, because he _owned_ Harry, and no medical professional in the wizarding world would treat (or not treat) Harry without Draco’s permission. They both knew it. It was just that Draco knew better than to _say_ it, now. 

“You agreed,” he said instead, mildly.

Harry sighed. “I _agreed_ that when I was ‘being a martyr’, you could override my decisions about my medical care, but Draco, you didn’t even give me a chance to _make_ any decisions!”

“In the interests of fairness, Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over, “not _all_ the blame can be put on your Mr Malfoy’s shoulders. It was the general consensus that _both_ of you needed time to rest.”

“But Draco _hasn’t_ rested!” Harry said, pointing an accusing finger at his Alpha.

Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly. “You are quite correct, Mr Potter. However, he _would_ refuse to leave your side for longer than an hour at a time, and I am afraid the one person who might have convinced him otherwise was unconscious.”

“I didn’t need to be unconscious to rest,” Harry said, petulantly. “We could’ve been resting _together_.”

“Unfortunately not,” Madam Pomfrey said, waving her wand over him and frowning in dissatisfaction. “You are in heat, Mr Potter.”

Harry froze. “I’m – sorry, _what_?” 

He couldn't have heard her right. Or – she had to be mistaken. He would _know_ if he was in heat, after all; it wasn't exactly the kind of thing he could _miss_.

“I can smell it,” Draco said. He was frowning, too, shifting uncomfortably on the hard infirmary chair. “You _are_ in heat, Harry. But it’s not right. Something’s wrong. Hermione’s researching it, trying to find answers. But I couldn’t justify letting you wake up until your body could handle the strain of whatever's happening to you. The heat was hard enough on you, last time – let alone _this_.”

“Merlin,” Harry groaned, letting his head drop forward and raking his fingers through his hair. “This is just – fucking _fantastic_. I need to be _out_ there, Draco – I need to be helping, letting people see me, talking to them, and – oh, Salazar’s beard, Voldemort’s _body_ –”

“It’s dealt with,” Draco said. “Severus burnt it himself and scattered the ashes over half of Scotland. Not even the oldest, Darkest ritual could bring that bastard back now. And as for everyone else – I gave a statement to the reporters on your behalf; explained how we defeated Voldemort at last, and what we’ve been doing for the last year.”

“Not the –” Harry glanced at Madam Pomfrey, who clicked her tongue but otherwise ignored their conversation, busying herself with several unpleasant-looking potions.

“Of course not,” Draco said. “Just that we were searching for a way to take him down.”

Harry relaxed. “Still. All our friends, the Order members, all the students and their families who fought with us – who _lost_ people –”

“Ron and Hermione are doing the rounds,” Draco reassured him. “Snape, too. You’ve made him a hero, you know.”

Harry shook his head. “He did that himself. He suffered the most, and _gave_ the most. I just made sure our side knew it, before we went into the final battle.”

“A good thing, too,” Madam Pomfrey said, turning and handing a murky-green potion to Harry. She looked at him sternly until he put the vial to his lips and drank reluctantly. “Or I’m not sure he wouldn’t have found himself on the wrong end of an Order wand. He’s going to have to face trial for his actions, regardless. His brief stint as Headmaster of this school did not succeed in endearing him to anyone.”

“We wouldn’t have won the war without him,” Harry said.

“And he did his best to protect the students, to keep the worst of the Death Eaters’ excesses from hurting anyone,” Draco added.

“So you say,” Madam Pomfrey sighed. “And there’s no way to misinterpret Dumbledore’s deathbed confession. Still, more students ended up in my infirmary this year than I care to think about. I can hardly believe it’s over at last, and all thanks to you, Mr Potter.” 

Harry frowned, but she was already handing him another potion, giving him a pointed look. He sighed and tipped the small vial back, swallowing it in one go. Unfortunately, the foul, bitter taste still managed to fill his mouth, even worse than the first. He gagged slightly, and then Draco was there, pressing his tongue into Harry’s mouth, chasing the bitterness away with his own, sweet taste.

Harry moaned and opened his mouth wider, fisting his hands in Draco’s robes and pulling him closer.

He let Draco claim him, let him probe and explore, sucked on his Alpha’s tongue with all the need and desperation of a seventeen-year-old boy. But there was something wrong. His skin was burning, the familiar-but-long-forgotten ache of the heat creeping up on him, but his body wasn’t reacting like it was supposed to, no slick wetness trickling down between his thighs, no unbearable arousal between his legs. He _needed_ , but the most important physiological reactions just – _weren't there_.

He broke away, gasping. “Draco,” he said, panicked.

“I know,” Draco said, swallowing hard, his grey eyes just as frightened. “I know. We'll – we'll figure it out, Harry. I promise.”

~*~

The next few days went by in a whirlwind of grief and slow-building jubilation. The remaining Death Eaters had been rounded up quickly, and people were still mourning for those who had died, but the joy of finally hearing that Voldemort was dead – of hearing it confirmed from Minister Shacklebolt’s own lips that the war was over... it was infectious, spreading like wildfire through the wizarding world.

Harry was invited to no less than thirty parties in the first two days he was awake, not to mention twenty-three funerals, and was asked to speak at almost every Death Eater trial. Draco sent polite declinations to the parties, but Harry insisted on making an appearance, brief though it might by necessity be, at every single funeral to show his support and grief for the bereaved. He stayed for the entire funerals for Colin Creevy, Padma Patil, Lavender Brown, Professor Sprout, and Vincent Crabbe.

Draco was a steady, silent support by his side for two days, but at Crabbe's funeral he broke down and cried. 

“It’s my fault,” he said, “I should have tried harder –”

Harry wrapped his arms around him, shoving his stupid, _inappropriate_ heat to the back of his mind so he could concentrate on Draco. He pressed a kiss to his Alpha’s temple. “His father got to him first,” he said gently. “That’s not your fault.”

“Potter’s right,” Pansy Parkinson said. Her eyes were red-rimmed but clear, and Harry wondered how many funerals for the other side she had had to attend. Pansy had been one of the first to turn after Draco made his new loyalties known, and she'd been invaluable in helping to turn the rest of the Slytherins and their families. But there were always exceptions. Crabbe, for example. Her parents. 

“We tried our best,” she said. “Even Gregory tried, and if Vince was going to listen to any one of us, it would have been him.”

Draco nodded, but Harry knew better than anyone that the weight of responsibility for another's life could not be lightened with empty words. It just had to be dealt with.

He tried, after that, to pull himself together for his Alpha’s sake, to share his own grief with him and maybe try to heal together, but every time he did, that tormenting half-heat rose, prickling across his skin and consuming his mind with _need_ , and he was no good to anyone.

“Harry,” Hermione said, one afternoon, and he jerked his head up to look at her. “You’ve been staring at that page for over an hour.”

His face flamed red, and he bent his head over the thick book again. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Leave him be, Granger,” Draco warned.

Harry sighed. “No, she’s right. I’m not helping. I’m sorry, guys.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Hermione said, gently. “I just meant – Harry, are you okay?”

Harry considered that. _Was_ he okay? Voldemort was dead, which was good, but now he just felt – lost. Like he’d had one goal, one purpose, for so long, and now it was all over, he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to work it out, either, when half of him wanted to curl up in a ball and cry for all that he’d lost, and half of him wanted Draco to just throw him down right here in the middle of the library and fuck him until he could barely remember his own name, let alone the ridiculous, unflattering titles the newspapers kept coming up with: The Boy Who Lived To Destroy Voldemort, The Omega Saviour, even, horribly, The Omega Who Had The Last Laugh.

And then – then there was Draco. His Alpha. The love of his life. The boy who had sworn to love him always, to _cherish_ him always, to share everything he was and ever would be with him. 

Harry had kept his promise. He’d allowed Draco to court him, to _show_ him how good they could be together. And Draco had more than proved himself. But – recently Harry had begun to feel a distance between them, and it _hurt_. He knew Draco loved him – could never, _ever_ doubt that – but he’d been quiet for a long time, now. Off, somehow. Since Malfoy Manor, Harry realised now, and while he’d attributed it at the time to the horror and stress of the war, he wondered what it meant for them now. Especially if he could no longer go into heat. 

Draco wanted children; he’d always been clear on that. If Harry couldn’t give him an heir, would Draco even still _want_ him?

“He’s not okay, ‘Mione,” Ron said. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like this,” Draco agreed. “Nor has Mother. She’s searching the books in our library at the Manor, but if there’s a precedent, I think we would have found it by now.”

“You're right,” Hermione sighed, slamming her dusty old book shut. “ _None_ of this is helpful. It’s all prettily-worded waffle about not very much at all. It’s almost as if they were _trying_ to keep the particulars of Alpha-Omega bonds secret.”

Draco frowned. “They probably were. Limiting public knowledge to myths and rumours would have increased the value of Omegas significantly – and many of the ruling pureblood families invested in the Omega trade would have had the power to destroy any publications threatening to undermine their profit margin. Not to mention the Alphas themselves – I can’t imagine revealing the intimate details of our bond to _anyone_ , let alone allowing it to go on public record.” 

The revulsion Draco felt at the very thought echoed through their bond, and Harry nodded in agreement. 

Hermione sighed, obviously frustrated. “But, Draco, you might _have_ to. There’s nothing in the books, and if we don’t know how Alpha-Omega bonds _work_ , how can we fix this?”

“Maybe we can’t,” Harry said, desolately. 

Draco put a hand over his. “Harry,” he said, very seriously, and waited until Harry lifted his eyes. “I will do whatever it takes. _Whatever_ it takes – even talk to Granger and Madam Pomfrey about our bond. I promise. I won’t let this destroy you.”

Reassurance poured through their bond, and Harry nodded, letting it relax him, trying not to think about Draco’s glaring omission: _I won’t let this destroy_ us.

~*~

Kingsley Shacklebolt rushed the trials of the Death Eaters through the Wizengamot in a matter of days. Harry understood, of course; the wizarding world had seen enough hatred and pain and death for several lifetimes. People just wanted to mourn their losses, celebrate, and move on.

But his Alpha was a Slytherin, and too many of his friends – their allies – had friends or family on trial. Greg Goyle’s parents. Pansy’s beautiful, tiny slip of a mother, who had cut down fifteen junior Aurors single-handedly in one, horrifying raid. Millicent Bulstrode’s three cousins, who had practically raised her, and now stood trial for the horrific murders of a group of Muggle professors and their students at the University of Leeds.

And Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s father.

Harry made Draco stay at Hogwarts while he attended that one. Azkaban was overflowing, and with the Dementors gone, the Minister had made the decision to reinstate the death penalty for the worst of the Death Eaters. 

“I’ll get him off,” Harry promised. “I _will_ , Draco... but – if I don’t – I don’t want you to watch that.”

Draco let him go without a word. And with the Chosen One’s heartfelt testimony on his behalf, Lucius was set free.

Narcissa didn’t even go to trial. She had never taken the Mark, and she had been rescued from Malfoy Manor by the Order long before the war began in earnest. With both Narcissa and Draco so close to Harry, Dumbledore had been afraid Voldemort would break Lucius out of Azkaban and try to use him against the Chosen One. And so they’d broken Lucius out first, and put him up in one of the Order’s safe-houses for the duration of the war.

Harry had been loath to trust the man, but, once he had accepted that his son was bonded – for life – to Harry Potter, Lucius had thrown himself into aiding the Light. His information on tactics and safe-houses and potential targets had saved many hundreds of innocent lives. Harry thought it was entirely possible the war had been won much quicker, and with far fewer casualties, because of him.

He’d even fought in the final battle, and had lost an arm getting Draco past three brutish Death Eaters. Without him, Draco may never have broken through the lines, and so, in a way, he’d saved Harry's life, too.

He wanted to thank him, but the Aurors shuffled Lucius and Narcissa out of a side entrance immediately after the trial, in case of retaliation. Harry thought the concern unjustified; very few people – and even fewer reporters – had attended the trial, and those who had seemed far more interested in what _Harry_ had to say than the actual verdict.

It was a relief, but also – kind of infuriating.

He hadn’t killed Voldemort alone. Draco had been right there with him, and they couldn’t have done it without Ron and Hermione, and Neville, and the Order, and the staff and students and families of Hogwarts; mothers and fathers and children fighting side-by-side.

He didn’t deserve this recognition. He never had, and it bothered him.

They were bombarded with owls for the better part of a week, bearing letters of thanks, of appreciation and congratulation – all for Harry. Many brought gifts, as well, from the newest, top-of-the-line brooms, to gold and jewellery, most with elaborate protections against curses or hexes, to chocolate and the best Faerie wines available in the wizarding world, to life-long subscriptions to Quidditch and wand magazines, and even tickets to the next Quidditch World Cup.

Harry felt uncomfortable accepting any of the gifts, and tried as much as possible to distribute them between his friends. Luna in particular was very taken with an experimental (and probably illegal) cross between a Pygmy Puff and a Crup, and Ginny wore a beaming smile for three days when Harry gave her the Firestorm II broom. 

Draco made him keep the tickets to the World Cup ( _“the best seats in the house, Harry – you might want them, a year from now”_ ), and Harry noticed him pocketing some of the jewellery. He didn’t say anything; he figured his Alpha had a right to it, after everything. If, however, he tried to make _Harry_ wear any of it (which Harry had a nasty suspicion was Draco’s intention), they would have to have A Talk.

Unfortunately, some of the owls brought ‘gifts’ of offers of a more personal, and entirely inappropriate, nature. 

_I would be honoured to bear your child_ , one witch wrote. _It’s widely understood that male Omegas can still impregnate female Betas, and it is the very deepest desire of my heart to give our Saviour his own child_ –

Harry tore it up, snarling. “ _I’m_ bearing any children we have,” he told a startled-looking Draco.

Draco frowned. “Of course you are,” he said, in a tone Harry knew meant he was just humoring him, and it brought him out of the sudden, blind rage. “Harry, love, are you feeling all right?”

Harry winced and shook his head, unable to meet his Alpha’s eyes. “No,” he said, his voice strained. His heat was encroaching on him slowly – much slower than last time, when he’d had only perhaps an hour of true awareness of his predicament, and even then the heat had taken over so quickly that the idea of _procreation_ hadn't fazed him in the slightest. 

This time, it was different. And the truth was, he was petrified. It was like the heat took control of his mouth, and the worst of it was that when he came back to himself a moment later, as he always did, he _remembered_.

“I don’t want children,” he said, just to be clear. “Not yet. Certainly not this heat. No matter what I say, Draco – you _have_ to give me the contraceptive potions.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Draco said, but his eyes were worried, and somehow sad, in a way Harry couldn’t understand. At least he knew _why_ Draco was worried; this was no simple physical injury that he could take from Harry, bear for him until they could get to a Healer, or until Hermione could find the right spells, as he’d done far too many times for Harry's liking during the past year.

This was Harry’s _body_ – his heat, their _bond_ – betraying them, and neither of them had a fucking clue what to do.

~*~

Other letters brought different offers, similar to those that had flooded in as soon as the news broke that Harry Potter was an Omega. Alphas from all over the country (even the occasional Beta), writing to beg Harry to allow them the honour of a duel to the death with Draco for the right to claim Harry.

Several (though far fewer than the first time around, at least) were addressed directly to Draco, and challenged his claim in the most insulting language possible, as if Harry were little more than a prize Crup to be won. Harry read one in disgust, and then Draco refused to let him read any more, and sat there tearing up the letters into tiny pieces with a methodical grimness before he fed them to the fire.

Even that didn't satisfy his Alpha. 

Already feeling impotent in his inability to help Harry, the letters threw him into a rage that threatened to boil over into something much, much worse when one of the volunteers helping to rebuild the castle – Fabien Barbary, a respected member of the Board of St Mungo’s – caught Harry after his daily check-up with Madam Pomfrey. 

He pinned Harry against a wall, forced his chin up, and bit him. And Harry _submitted_.

A tiny part of his mind was screaming in horror, and he was fairly sure he managed to squeak out a “please, _no_ ,” but the rest of him wasn’t listening, and Fabien certainly wasn’t. 

Harry knew, even as it was happening, that if he was in heat – _proper_ heat – his body wouldn’t tolerate any touch but his Alpha’s. But his body was reacting all wrong, and Fabien’s bite made him squirm in pleasure instead, need filling him up until he could barely _breathe_ , his cock already hardening against the man’s thigh.

He didn't like to think of how far it might have gone if Snape hadn't turned the corner at that moment.

He tore Fabien off Harry, snarling, and shoved him away. 

“ _Go_ ,” he said, in the most ominous tone Harry had ever heard from him. Fabien's face paled, and he took to his heels and ran.

Harry gasped in relief, sagging. “Oh Merlin,” he said, touching his neck with trembling fingers. Tears prickled at his eyes, and he scrubbed them away with his arm roughly. “Professor – Merlin, _thank you_ –”

Snape eyed him warily, and then sighed. “I should have foreseen this. You’re in heat.”

Harry nodded silently.

Snape made a noise of aggravation. “You _stupid_ boy! Have you learned nothing? Where is your Alpha? Is he mad? Your heat might be waning, but you cannot afford to be out of his protection right now! Very few people will be willing – let alone able – to restrain themselves at the scent of an Omega in heat, whether or not you are the Saviour of the bloody wizarding world! And there are no legal grounds to prosecute, either. You’re an _Omega_ , Potter. The Ministry will never recognise an Alpha trying to claim you for his own as _rape_.”

Harry scowled and turned his head away. It was a common sentiment, he’d discovered, but he still couldn’t quite believe that the Ministry – the government and _justice_ system of their world – regarded him the same way: as an inferior being whose very nature, going into heat a couple of times a year, meant that even if he said no, he still wanted it. Because while an Omega could only be _impregnated_ by his bonded Alpha, his body wouldn’t stop pumping out the scent that attracted other Alphas, or producing the slick that allowed an Alpha to knot him with ease – and that was enough to imply ‘consent’ to those _morons_.

It was sickening.

“So,” he said, “there are laws about _eavesdropping_ on private conversations between a bonded Alpha and Omega, but an Alpha can’t even prosecute when his Omega is _raped_?”

Snape regarded him carefully. “You think Mr Malfoy would want to prosecute?”

Harry frowned. “No,” he said, reluctantly. 

“No,” Snape agreed. “He’d go after whoever it was and _kill_ them.”

“And I don’t know that I’d stop him,” Harry muttered, darkly. 

Snape’s lips twitched. “Indeed. And your Alpha would be well within his rights. Of course, if someone tried to tear you from his arms, he could prosecute. But trying to claim another’s claimed Omega _behind his back_ – no one would even blink at murder.”

“That’s fucked up,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Every single Omega law is _fucked up_.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “While I deplore your language, Mr Potter, I am not arguing with you. Will you let me escort you back to Mr Malfoy?” 

Harry nodded, and Snape gestured down the hallway. They fell into step, and Harry pondered the difference a year could make. It wasn’t so very long ago that he would have scorned the idea of ever walking _beside_ Severus Snape. 

“Why were you away from your Alpha’s side?” Snape asked.

“I had a check-up with Madam Pomfrey.”

Snape stopped abruptly, staring at him. “She requested your presence _during_ your heat?” There was dawning anger in his dark eyes, and Harry shook his head. 

“I’m not _in_ heat. At least, I am – Draco says I collapsed, just minutes after we killed Voldemort, and my heat came on immediately. We don’t know why, exactly, but –”

“It’s been well over a year since your first heat, correct?” Snape interrupted, and Harry nodded. “That kind of gap is highly unusual, especially in the first few years of coming into your dynamic. No doubt the war prevented your body from feeling safe enough to go into a breeding heat – the idea of potentially falling pregnant in such an environment could only be abhorrent to an Omega. You probably have two or three heats to make up for now, and so when your body sensed it was over…”

“But it’s been a _week_ since I woke up – two, since the battle – and I still haven't gone full-blown mindless animal yet.” Harry sighed heavily. “Frankly, I just want it _over_.”

Snape blinked. “You’re saying... Potter, this _isn’t_ the remnants of your heat? It hasn't even _begun_? Draco has yet to take you?”

Harry coloured. “I didn’t say _that_ ,” he protested. “Just – we just did it the way we – you know, _normally_ do.”

Snape's brow creased. “He’s bitten you, too?”

“We tried that,” Harry agreed. “It didn’t work. I mean – it still _worked_ , I still got –” He coughed. “I mean, but – I didn’t feel that need to _submit_ , to beg him for – well. You know.”

“No, I don’t,” Snape said dryly. “My inclinations run in the other direction, if you remember, Potter.” Harry snapped a look up at him guiltily. Even after all this time, he couldn't wrap his head around the idea that Snape and his _mum_ would have been good for each other, in the same way Draco was for him. That he could have been _Snape’s_ son, if things had been different. “But yes," Snape said, "I know what you mean. I should have been told earlier, Harry. This is very serious.”

“I didn’t want to bother you at the trial,” Harry said, wincing.

He'd spoken for Snape, of course, and showed the court Dumbledore's last Pensieve. Snape had walked free that day, and once the newspapers had written up his story (which Harry made sure they did), he'd become a national hero. Harry was glad. If anyone deserved recognition for his war efforts, it was Severus Snape.

Still, that meant he had been busy. 

“I wish I’d thought to ask you for that suppressant before Dumbledore died,” Harry sighed. “I could have prevented all of this.”

“Perhaps,” Snape agreed. “And I will teach you how to make your own, once this is over. But you cannot allow this to go on, Potter. You are in heat, and everyone will know it soon. If your bond-mate cannot satisfy you, we will have every Alpha in Hogwarts in a frenzy in their attempts to claim you. And it will not take even _their_ hormone-addled, primal brains long to figure out that the only way to do that is to kill Draco first.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the consequences of Harry's half-formed heat become evident.

Harry forgot to heal the bruise on his neck.

He was much better at healing spells since the war, and the bruise where Fabien Barbary had bitten him would have been child’s play to remove. Unfortunately, everything in him was completely consumed with the idea that Draco was in danger – _again_ – and the consequences didn’t even occur to him.

They were staying temporarily in one of the quarters set aside for visiting professors; a bending of the rules granted by their new Headmistress, McGonagall. The law prevented a mated Alpha and Omega pair from being separated, and McGonagall had decided it would be improper to put them up, together, in one of their old Houses.

Draco had told him to hurry back after his check-up with Madam Pomfrey; Harry knew he’d still be there, waiting for him.

Snape called out after him, several times, even managed to catch up to him right outside their room, catching at his arm, but Harry was entirely focused on making sure his Alpha was all right, and he shrugged the other Omega off irritably, barging through the door. 

He flew across the large living room into Draco’s arms, seizing him in a tight embrace. “You’re all right,” he breathed, feeling the familiar, futile shiver of his heat run down his spine... and fizzle out into nothing. He groaned, letting his forehead drop forward onto Draco’s shoulder. “We have to _fix_ this,” he said roughly.

Draco frowned. “Harry, what –” He looked at Snape, and pulled back a little. And then his eyes caught on Harry’s neck, and he stilled. “What. Is. That,” he said flatly. His tone was dangerous, and Harry froze. 

Snape sighed in exasperation.

“Uh,” Harry stuttered, backing away. “It’s – it’s nothing, Draco, really. Professor Snape stopped it –”

“Stopped _what_ , exactly?” Draco asked, his eyes burning a hole through Harry, pinning him in place.

Harry flinched. “It was just – the heat,” he said, latching onto Snape’s explanation. “My scent –”

“Someone attacked you,” Draco surmised. “Tell me who, Harry.”

“It was just a bite,” Harry pleaded.

“It was an attempt at a _claim_!” Draco said furiously. “You’re _mine_ , Harry. What do you think will happen if word gets out that I don’t defend my mate? It’ll be a free-for-all –”

“I can defend myself,” Harry snapped, but Draco took two quick steps forward, grabbing his upper arms, fingers digging in painfully.

“Not _now_ ,” he hissed, face right up in Harry’s. “Not while you’re in heat! You _know_ that. You’re _vulnerable_ like this!”

Harry scowled back at him, but he couldn’t deny that Draco was right. His reflexes were dulled, and the heat made it difficult to focus on anything but his Alpha, and breeding. That was what the heat was _for_ , after all, to encourage an Omega to breed with his Alpha.

His Alpha, Draco. His all. His _everything_. 

But if Snape hadn’t pulled Fabien off him, he would have let himself be claimed by a man twice his age, a man he didn’t even _know_. He’d submitted, felt that desperate urge to be _taken_ , and his body hadn’t differentiated between Fabien and Draco at all. 

Even during his last heat, when he’d been betrayed by his own nature, everything but _lust_ and _need_ and _Alpha_ buried deep in his own mind – he’d still been free to _choose_. To say no. No matter how difficult it had been, no matter how _desperately_ he’d wanted to give in to his most base instincts and beg for just _anyone_ to take him – he’d had that ugly feeling of _wrong_ to guide him. That same feeling had only grown worse over the last year, whenever an Alpha not his own touched him with sexual intent (the Snatcher who had caught them and taken them to Malfoy Manor had been the worst; Harry had vomited relentlessly for over an hour after the man touched him, until he was just retching in painful, dry heaves). 

But this time, that feeling _hadn’t been there_.

“At least all they want to do is fuck me,” he said, grimly, forcing himself to think about Draco. He’d betrayed his Alpha once already today; he wasn’t going to fail him again. “I can – I can handle that, if it happens. The important thing is they can’t break our bond, even if they –”

“Rape you,” Draco said, his voice thick with rage. “Say it like it is, Harry. That’s what they’d be doing. That’s what – whoever tried to attack you, that’s what they tried to do. _Rape_ you.”

Harry glared at him. “I’m well aware of that, thank you,” he snapped, and Draco flinched back, his face falling. Harry sighed. “I’m sorry, Draco. It’s just – _you’ll_ be the one in danger if we don’t figure this out. Not me. They’ll go after you, and they won’t want to _fuck_ you – they’ll want to _kill_ you.”

Draco shook his head. “I’m not going to let some crazed Alpha take me down. I’ve fought at your side for a year, Harry. I’ve learnt more from you and your friends than I ever did at my father’s knee. We defeated _Voldemort_ together. We killed my _aunt_.”

“It only takes one mistake,” Snape said, quietly. “One moment of letting your guard drop in the wrong company... Don’t take any chances, Draco. Not until we figure out what is wrong with your Omega.”

Draco stiffened immediately, bristling, putting himself between Harry and Snape. “Why do you assume it’s my _mate_ at fault?” he demanded. “Why couldn’t it be _me_ , stopping him? Because _I’m_ wrong?”

Harry felt his throat close, and he reached out a hand to tug the other boy around. Draco had been insanely over-protective of him ever since they’d bonded, and while he appreciated the sentiment (most of the time), it also tended to lead to disproportionate guilt whenever Harry got hurt. It was an odd feeling; realising just how absurd that kind of guilt complex looked from the outside. 

“You’re not _wrong_ , Draco,” he said, examining his Alpha’s face closely. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, it’s not _your_ fault,” Draco said stubbornly, completely avoiding the question.

“I think it is probably something out of _either_ of your hands,” Snape said, with rare diplomacy. “I have a contact – someone who might be able to help. In the meantime,” he pinned them with a look Harry remembered all too well from years of Potions – the look that could (and had) make even the most belligerent child quail, “do not do _anything_ stupid. Be careful. Take care of each other.”

Harry ducked his head to hide his smile. Almost anyone else would have advised Draco to take care of _him_ , and the simple acknowledgement that he was _human_ , that being an Omega didn’t mean he was somehow _inferior_ – made all the difference. 

Even people he had known for years treated him differently now. Dean and Seamus, for example, who followed him with disconcertingly covetous eyes; the other professors, who had suddenly begun treating him with kid gloves, coddling him in the classroom and on the Quidditch pitch; Madam Pomfrey, who always, always looked to Draco now before she even _spoke_ to Harry. Even Ron and Hermione were guilty of occasionally treating him as an Omega first and their best friend second – unintentionally, of course, but it was a relief to be treated so casually as an _equal_ , for once. Or at least, like a stupid little boy, which was about as equal as he would ever be to Snape in his eyes. 

And that was just fine with Harry.

“Yes, sir,” he said, and Draco echoed him. 

Snape opened the door, giving them a pointed glare as he left. “Be _careful_ ,” he said.

“Yes, _sir_!” Draco repeated, raising his voice slightly. And then, as Snape’s footsteps faded down the corridor, he closed his hands over Harry’s hips and pulled him closer. “I want to know who hurt you,” he said.

Harry sighed. “I know you do.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head up for a kiss, and Draco gave it to him; hot and rough and possessive, biting at his lips, forcing his tongue into Harry’s mouth and laying claim to it. 

“Mine,” he growled, pulling back at last.

“Yes,” Harry said.

“Then _tell_ me.”

Harry shook his head. “If I give you his name, you’ll go after him, Draco. You know you will. And that will leave me unprotected in the middle of my heat. You said it yourself – I’m vulnerable like this. ”

Draco stared at him. “You,” he said, and then stopped. “ _Harry_ –”

Harry smiled slightly. “Do you still want to know?”

Draco’s eyebrows twitched together. “You know I don’t,” he said reluctantly. “ _After_ your heat, though –”

“Of course, Draco,” Harry said meekly.

Draco sighed. “You’re not ever going to tell me, are you?” Harry just blinked at him innocently, and Draco tried to frown at him. “Whatever happened to obeying your Alpha, Potter?”

Harry pressed an affectionate kiss to the corner of Draco’s lips. “When it really matters,” he agreed, “you know I will. I _do_. But the name of the idiot who tried to assault me – that doesn’t matter, not compared to _us_. To our bond. To being _safe_ , Draco. We survived a _war_. I won’t let this hurt us, now.”

~*~

Harry let himself be forced down onto his back in the middle of the four-poster bed and claimed with teeth and fingers and cock. Draco pushed his legs up and demanded that he hold them spread open, and then shoved two fingers into his arse, without warning or preparation. Draco had told him, during his first heat, that he expected Harry to keep himself stretched and lubed and ready for him at all times, but they’d quickly realised that Draco _hated_ that.

He wanted his _own_ fingers in Harry, coaxing him open, forcing him to relax and submit. He couldn’t even bear to use the spells, most of the time – unless they were in a hurry, which had unfortunately too often been the case while on the run and sharing a tiny tent with another couple.

“Going to take my time now,” he said, twisting his fingers inside Harry. “Going to have you so loose you’ll be _begging_ for my knot because my cock does _nothing_ for you.”

Harry shivered and moaned, his heat flushing over him again. “Please,” he said, rocking down on those long, slender fingers, trying to angle himself so that they brushed his prostate.

But Draco was true to his word; he took his time, drawing it out, letting Harry have a teasing hint of what was to come and then easing back, tormenting him with a hard thrust and then giving him minutes of nothing but the gentlest grinding motion. He added another finger when Harry was crying out and humping the air, desperate for _something_ , and then twisted up to push against Harry’s prostate.

Harry screamed; a dry, hoarse sound that tore at his chest.

“Shh,” Draco soothed him immediately, easing off and stroking his other hand over Harry’s heaving chest. He took a nipple between a thumb and forefinger, and pinched. Harry arched, crying out again, sweat springing out all over his skin. He had no leverage, on his back with his hands holding his legs up for Draco’s pleasure; no leverage to push back with, and Draco knew it. It was one of his favourite positions for just that reason.

“Oh Merlin, _please_ –” he moaned, and Draco smiled.

“Say my name.”

Harry struggled to open his eyes just as Draco pinched his nipple again, and then bent his head and lapped at it, saliva-wet and _too soft_. “Ah!” Harry cried.

“Say my _name_!”

“Draco!” Harry shouted, the word bursting from him like a benediction. “Draco, _please_ –” and Draco crooked his finger again and tapped at Harry’s prostate in a punishing rhythm that had him arching off the bed and screaming.

“No,” Draco said firmly, and Harry sobbed in desperation. “You’re not coming until I have my knot in you, understand?”

“ _Please_ ,” Harry begged, but his Alpha was implacable. He liked Harry writhing on his fingers, and this time, he had a point to prove. He had his _Omega_ to win back, to re-claim, to show that Harry’s nameless attacker – or any other Alpha – would always be a poor substitute for his true Alpha.

Draco slid his fingers out and urged Harry up onto his hands and knees. Harry dropped his chest to the bed immediately, spreading his legs shamelessly with his arse up in the air, mindlessly grateful that now, _now_ Draco would fuck him. Draco parted the cheeks of his arse, and Harry pushed back eagerly.

But the next thing he felt was not his Alpha’s beloved cock pressing against his entrance, but a soft swipe of tongue.

Harry shrieked and bucked, and Draco laughed, grabbing his hips to still him. “Going to take my time,” he taunted gently. “Remember, Potter? You didn’t think you’d get off that easily, did you?”

“Oh Merlin,” Harry said, his breath hitching. “I can’t – I _need_ –”

Draco stopped abruptly, freezing, his hand on Harry’s lower back. “Harry, you – your heat?” he said, and the hope in his voice was almost painful.

Harry's jaw clenched, and he shook his head, hiding his face in his arm. He didn’t think he’d hurt Draco this badly since the morning after his first heat, when he had denied their bond. Wanting it, _needing_ it, but his body continually failing to respond to his Alpha... it was unbearable. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice muffled.

“Don’t be,” Draco said, firmly, but Harry could hear the desperate disappointment in his voice. “You don’t – I mean, it still doesn’t _smell_ right. And you're not even – you're not wet. I shouldn’t have asked. It was stupid. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry said, twisting to sit up and take Draco into his arms. Draco clung to him fiercely, and Harry knew there was something his Alpha wasn’t telling him; something important. 

But he wasn't going to push right now. Everything felt too – fragile, somehow; like they were on the edge of a precipice, one tiny shift of rock away from falling and shattering into a thousand pieces. 

He turned his face up for a kiss, instead, and Draco granted it to him, sweet and gentle and mingled with sorrow. Giving and accepting comfort, and as much as Harry loved the way Draco took him down into submission so easily, he loved _this_ , too. Just _being_ with each other, sharing something that no one else ever would, or could; belonging to each other in a way that had nothing to do with ownership or some stupid, fucked-up excuse for Omega law.

“I ruined the mood,” he said apologetically, when they broke for air.

Draco rolled his eyes. “ _I_ ruined the mood, Potter,” he said. He brushed a strand of Harry’s hair out of his eyes, and then smiled. It was clearly an effort, but Harry appreciated it anyway. “I’m still going to fuck you until you scream.”

“Yeah?” Harry said, his lips curling up into a small grin. “Think you can?”

“Make you scream, you mean?” Draco said, lightly. “Hardly a _challenge_ , Harry.”

“Oh no?” Harry’s grin widened. “Do you _want_ a challenge, Draco? I thought good, obedient little Omegas were more your thing.”

Draco snorted. “You have _never_ been a good, obedient little Omega. You were still trying to challenge me in the middle of your first _heat_ , when every instinct but _submission_ should have been completely drowned out. I don’t know why I ever thought being Harry Potter’s Alpha would be easy.”

“When did you think that?” Harry asked, interestedly. He couldn’t imagine it had been _after_ his heat – he’d pretty much told Draco that he was going to have to _work_ for it day and night if he wanted a happy bond.

“We all thought you were a Beta, remember,” Draco shrugged. “I may or may not have fantasised about taking you down a few pegs.”

“You were certainly thrilled enough when I turned out to be an Omega,” Harry agreed mildly, no accusation in his tone. But Draco opened his mouth to reply and then paused, clearly weighing his words. He straddled Harry’s hips, curling his hands around Harry’s wrists and urging his arms above his head, pressing his hands down into the mattress. Harry moaned quietly, his cock hardening between them. 

But Draco just shifted his weight so their lower bodies weren’t touching, ignoring Harry’s whine of protest. His eyes were dark, careful. 

“The DADA class when you went into heat... changed _everything_ for me, Harry. You – had always hated me. It was never like that for me.”

Harry tried to sit up without thinking, and jerked back against Draco’s restraining hands. He subsided immediately, wriggling a little to enjoy the feeling of being pinned under his Alpha; smooth, warm naked skin sliding against his.

“What do you mean?" he said curiously. "You _didn’t_ hate me?”

“Once, perhaps, a long time ago,” Draco conceded. He shifted again, pushing Harry’s legs apart and hooking them up over his shoulders. Harry couldn't help rocking his hips, even though it was clear Draco was determined to draw this out. His whole body was aching, and he felt _empty_. He wanted to be filled, and it was so _frustrating_ , because if he was actually, properly in heat, he’d be pumping out the pheromones necessary to make _Draco_ lose his mind, too, and instead – instead of being fucked and knotted again and again and again, he was listening to Draco _talk_ , and it wasn’t _fair_. “But I think I’ve loved you ever since that duel in second year, when you spoke Parseltongue to my snake.”

Harry blinked, temporarily distracted. “I’m not sure you can call that _love_ ,” he said, sceptically. “Not when you were insulting me and my friends, casting slurs on the memory of my parents, selling stories about me to the wizarding press, dressing up as a Dementor to make me throw one of the biggest games of the year –” 

He broke off with a strangled gasp as his Alpha pushed inside him, clutching at Draco’s shoulders.

“Shh,” Draco said sternly, bending to kiss Harry’s eyes closed, and then scattering a teasing trail down to his jaw. “You’re right, it wasn’t love. But you _were_ my first crush, Harry. I just never thought I had a chance. Apart from anything else, my father would never have allowed me to court, much less _marry_ , a male Beta. And then you went into heat, and I knew – I _knew_ you were mine.”

“You knew before we touched?” Harry asked, opening his eyes again in surprise. 

“I knew it the moment you looked into my eyes, in DADA,” Draco told him, sliding out and then thrusting back in, hard. Harry's breath hitched. “I think that’s when I realised it would never be easy between us. You were fighting me right from the start, breaking eye contact instead of dropping to your knees and crawling to me –”

“Is that what a good, obedient little Omega would have done?” Harry teased, and Draco’s next thrust slammed into his prostate. He arched, mouth opening in a silent cry, and Draco smiled down at him with his teeth.

“I’m going to _fuck_ you, Potter, and I’m going to come, and I’m not going to knot you. Not yet. I’m going to take you again and again, as many times as I can stand it, and you _won’t_ come until I knot you, do you understand me?”

Harry moaned helplessly, shuddering under the ferocity of his Alpha’s thrusts, already painfully hard and ready to come. And then Draco fitted his teeth around his carotid and bit down, hard, obliterating Fabien’s pitiable attempt at a claim, and Harry cried out, tightening his grip on Draco’s shoulders and holding on for dear life.

~*~

Two hours later, Harry slipped out of their bed to close himself in the bathroom, covering his mouth with his hands as he slid down the cold, tiled wall, trying to muffle the deep, gasping sobs.

It wasn’t _enough_. Two hours of being pounded into the mattress by the boy he loved, and his skin still itched, burning and growing worse by the minute. He’d had to _fake_ his orgasm, when Draco knotted him at last, because he couldn’t come. 

He _couldn't come_ with Draco’s _knot_ inside him.

It was a fucking _nightmare_.

He buried his knuckles in his eyes, fighting back a moan. There was something horribly, horribly wrong with him. He _loved_ Draco. It had taken time, and a patience on Draco’s part that Harry hadn’t quite appreciated at the time, trying to prove himself worthy, to win his Omega’s heart, but – after everything they’d been through together, after everything Draco had done and _sacrificed_ for him, how could Harry not love him?

Draco had changed _sides_ for him. Saved his life, too many times to count. Rid his soul of an evil Horcrux. Played nice with his friends – even _Ron_. Draco was smart, and sexy – bloody _gorgeous_ , in fact. And he could be overprotective and ridiculously overbearing, but he could also be hopelessly romantic, and endearingly sweet, and fucking _incredible_ in bed.

Their first heat together had hardly prepared Harry for sex with Draco Malfoy. His Alpha had been almost as intoxicated as Harry by his heat, then, and his sole focus had been on knotting and breeding. Without the heat affecting him, his love-making skills were – in Harry’s not-at-all biased opinion – unsurpassed.

Nothing had changed since then.

Nothing except _Harry_. 

“Salazar’s _fucking_ basilisk,” he swore, scrubbing at his face. The tears refused to stop coming, spilling out in a relentless tide over his knuckles, and his throat hurt, sobs wrenching their way out of his chest against his will.

He’d failed Draco, _betrayed_ his Alpha, and he was still so hard it _hurt_. He was just grateful that Draco had turned him onto his hands and knees to knot him, and had then dropped off to sleep so quickly afterwards – he wasn’t sure he could have kept it from him, otherwise.

It was _shameful_. He was so _ashamed_ of himself, ashamed of his body, and he just couldn’t _cope_ with it anymore.

It had to stop. Whatever the cost, whatever the damage to their relationship, this couldn't continue. It had to _stop_.

~*~

He woke with a pounding headache, dry, itchy eyes, and a terrible crick in his neck. He’d obviously slipped over onto his side at some point, exhausted by the hours of sex and then hours more of crying his eyes out. He was freezing cold, and he slowly realised the pounding wasn’t just inside his head – there was someone trying to knock the door down.

He groaned, trying to push himself to his feet just as Draco slammed through the door.

“Harry!” Draco skidded to a stop beside him and fell to his knees, his face filled with panic as he ran his hands over Harry’s chilled skin. “What happened? Are you okay? I woke up and you were gone and I could feel _pain_ through the bond –”

“I was –” Harry searched for an excuse and came up with nothing. He was a poor liar at the best of times, and an even worse one when it came to his Alpha, and right now he felt like he had the hangover from _hell_. He just couldn't think of a single plausible reason for having spent the night on the bathroom floor. “I’m sorry,” he said, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Draco looked even more alarmed. “Are you hurt? Why did you lock yourself in here? Harry, talk to me!”

“I didn’t come,” Harry said, on a hiccup of a breath.

Draco’s brows twitched together. “What? You didn't... you mean last night? You didn’t come last night?”

“I couldn’t,” Harry whispered. “I _tried_ , Draco – I tried, and I really – I _wanted_ to, I promise, but I just –”

Draco’s face paled, and he put out a hand blindly to steady himself against the wall. “You didn’t come,” he said, hoarsely. “All that time – I must’ve – oh, Merlin, _no_ , Harry – I _used_ you. I raped –”

“Don’t be an idiot!” Harry snapped, and then clutched at his head as it threatened to split in two. He closed his eyes against the pain. “I need a hangover potion, Draco. _Now_.”

Draco scrambled to his feet and almost ran out the door. He was back in less than a minute, throwing a blanket around Harry's shoulders and tucking it in carefully before feeding him the potion.

Harry swallowed every last drop desperately, and then dropped his forehead to his knees. “I can’t _take_ this anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, helplessly. “I hurt you –”

“No, you didn't,” Harry said, irritated. “This stupid fucking _heat_ did. You didn't force anything on me. I wanted you. It was _good_. But – but nothing _happened_ , and I just – I can’t take this _half-state_ anymore! It has to happen or it has to go _away_ , but I can’t go on like this!”

“Severus is looking into it –”

“It’s not _enough_!” Harry snapped, and Draco fell back a step. Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I'm _sorry_ , Draco. But it’s _our_ bond. No one else is going to be able to figure this out. There’s something wrong with _us_ , and – maybe if we just –”

“What?” Draco said quickly, almost pitifully eager to please. “ _Anything_ , Harry. Please, just tell me what I can do.”

Harry stared at him, a sob rising in his throat. “I don’t _know_. I don’t know, and it’s _killing_ me.”

Draco swallowed, his expression pained. “Okay,” he said, and rose to go into the other room. Harry heard drawers being opened and clothes rustling, and then his Alpha came back in, fully dressed, and scooped Harry up into his arms. He grunted a little under the weight, and murmured a wandless Featherweight charm, carrying Harry out into their room and laying him on the bed. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said tenderly, perching next to him on the side of the bed. “I hurt you last night –” Harry opened his mouth to object, and Draco put a finger over his lips. “I _did_. Unintentionally, and you should have told me – and don't think we won't be discussing that, in the very near future – but ultimately you are my responsibility, and I failed you, and I’m sorry. So – so we won’t be doing that again.”

Harry's stomach sank. “Doing what?”

“Any of it,” Draco said, waving a hand to encompass the two of them, the rumpled sheets. “Sex. Not until you’re in full heat, or we find a way to stop it. I won’t risk hurting you again.”

“But I _need_ you –” Harry protested, and Draco shushed him again.

“I know. But it’s not working. The moment you go into heat, you should be _desperate_ for my bite, and yet it’s done _nothing_ for you –”

Harry felt the guilt rise again, threatening to swallow him whole. He really, _really_ didn’t want to tell his Alpha about the way he'd responded to Fabien's bite, but he suspected now that they were both keeping secrets, and that couldn’t be healthy for their bond. Maybe it was even the _reason_ for his inability to go into heat.

“When the other Alpha bit me yesterday,” he began, and Draco stilled, a low growl starting deep in his chest. Harry winced, looking away. He couldn’t meet his Alpha’s gaze, but he had to get this out. “I’m sorry. But – it didn’t happen quite like I told you yesterday. I – I submitted to him, Draco. I _responded_ to his bite, as if – as if there was no bond between _us_. As if you didn’t even _exist_. There was no feeling of _wrong_ , even – I just _needed_ –”

Draco was shaking his head, staring at him with betrayal in his eyes. “No,” he said, breath coming short and shallow. “ _No_.”

“I didn’t want to!” Harry pleaded, reaching out for him. “Draco, I didn’t mean to –”

“I know,” Draco choked out, but he was backing away, still shaking his head. “Tell me who it was, Harry. Tell me _now_.”

“What are you going to –?”

“ _Tell me_!” Draco snapped, and there was just enough of the heat lingering on Harry’s skin that obedience was instinct. He opened his mouth and told his Alpha the name, and then watched, frozen in horror, as Draco charged out of the room; face pale, jaw set, murder in his eyes.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape to the rescue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for attempted non-con in this chapter; please read with caution (or not at all!) if this is a possible trigger for you.

Harry almost dashed straight out the door after his Alpha, but he was still mostly naked, and, almost snarling in frustration, he stopped to throw on a pair of trousers and a shirt. As an afterthought, he cast a Patronus to summon Snape to Ravenclaw tower, where most of the volunteers, including Fabien Barbary, were rooming. 

Ravenclaw had been the least (after Slytherin) affected by the Carrows’ systematic destruction during the last school year. Gryffindor had, of course, suffered the most – much of the tower’s walls had been reduced to rubble, and all of the bedrooms were open to the cold night air. 

“To teach us to be _strong_ ,” Neville had explained, when they'd found him and what seemed like half the school crammed into the Room of Requirement.

Harry passed the turn-off to the seventh floor without thought, flinging himself around a corner. He was relieved to find that his headache was gone. His neck was still sore, but he could ignore that pain. Finding Draco before he did something irredeemable, _irreversible_ , had to be his number one priority.

He took the stairs at a run, skidded around a Knight in Armour, and slammed straight into a warm body. Hands grabbed his waist to steady him, and Harry gasped, heat flashing through his body, zinging down his spine to settle, hot and throbbing, in his balls.

“No,” he cried out, but it was useless – it had been days, _weeks_ , of the heat struggling to break through, and it took advantage of the Alpha's smell, his burning touch, to flood Harry's body now with the hormones it had been craving.

“Please,” he sobbed, “please _don’t_ –” but the Alpha already had a hand under his chin, tilting his head up and to the side to gain access to his throat. Harry recognised him as Travis Pickering, one of the young Aurors who had fought with them in the final battle. He was a good man, maybe ten years older than them, always standing when a witch (no matter her bloodline) walked into the room, never raising his voice in anger. He had a pleasant face, and deep blue eyes, and those eyes pinned Harry in place now with an intensity that made his whole body shiver in need.

“Mine,” Pickering said, softly, and Harry frowned a little, because really, those eyes were lovely, but he couldn’t help picturing a _different_ set of eyes – beautiful grey, darkening to storm-grey when he was angry or very aroused, softening to dove-grey when he was particularly happy or content. He imagined the horror that would fill those eyes when his mate realised he'd submitted to yet another Alpha, and felt sick bile rise in his throat.

His _mate_. Draco.

He couldn't let this happen. Not again. What if it was the straw that broke the camel's back? What if Draco couldn’t forgive him? What if he was so disgusted by Harry’s betrayal that he couldn't even bear to _touch_ him anymore? What if – what if he severed their bond?

That terrible thought galvanised Harry into action; he threw himself backwards just as Pickering's teeth grazed his neck.

The Alpha stared at him stupidly for a moment, and then lunged after him. Harry scrambled backwards, knocking into the Knight in Armour. It fell with an almighty crash, making him jump, but it served to startle Pickering as well, and for a moment his face cleared, and he almost looked like the gentle, well-mannered Auror Harry knew.

But then Harry’s heat took over again and the kind blue eyes were swallowed up, and Harry knew if he didn't do something quickly, they would _both_ be consumed. And there would be no happy endings, this time.

He flung out a hand, but Pickering just kept coming. _Stupefy_! Harry thought desperately, and Pickering did pause briefly. But then he shook it off, and, panicked, Harry scrabbled in his robes for his wand. 

It wasn't there. He'd left their room in such a haste – 

“ _Stupefy_!” he tried again, this time out loud. But either his heat was interfering deliberately, preventing him from fending off a potential mate, or his pheremones were making Pickering stronger – his spell didn't do a damn thing. “ _Incarcerous_!” he cried, terrified. “ _Levicorpus_!”

But Pickering just smiled, baring his teeth at him. “Stop fighting, little one. Your body betrays you. You want my bite. You want my knot.”

“No,” Harry said weakly, but he could feel it beginning, that first, wet trickle down the inside of his thighs, that desperate need to offer his neck for his Alpha's claim. “ _No_ ,” he said again, and in one last, frantic attempt to prevent the inevitable, he screamed out Draco’s name through their bond.

Then Pickering was on him, slamming him down onto his back, pinning his hands to the floor. Harry fought, but the need was stronger, and his will to stay faithful to his mate was succumbing quickly to the flood of sensations as his heat took over. “You can’t claim me,” he gasped out, even as he arched his head back, offering his neck for the bite. “I – I’m bonded to an Alpha already. You can't claim me unless he severs our bond first.”

Pickering had a hand in his hair, holding his head in place even as another hand crept up Harry's thigh. He paused, frowning in confusion. “You’re mine now,” he growled menacingly.

“Not until my Alpha gives me up,” Harry said, breathlessly. The hand in his hair, pulling just a little, just enough to _hurt_ , was sending sparks down his spine, making his cock harden. “You can bite me as much as you like – I will belong to Draco for as long as he wants me. The only way you can claim me is to convince him to sever our bond.”

Pickering looked at him shrewdly. “Or I could just kill him.”

A flash of fear spiked through Harry’s chest, but it was gone just as quickly, submerged under the relentless tidal wave of his heat. He squirmed under the Alpha straddling him – he needed to be taken so _badly_ , and there was no feeling of _right_ or _wrong_ this time to help guide him. But his heart was crying out against it – _him_ , not the Omega – and that gave him the strength to continue. “Malfoy is – a coward,” he said, struggling to think. “You won’t – need to kill him. Just the _threat_ of it will have him – cowering at your feet.”

Pickering seemed to waver. “I’m strong,” he said, like he was trying to convince Harry of it. Harry smiled up at him, and told himself that his adoration wasn’t real – he was _pretending_ , for Draco’s sake. To buy time. “But your bond is powerful. I’ve seen you both, together. Some say he even helped you destroy Voldemort.”

_Some say_? Harry thought vaguely. Like it had happened thousands of years ago, and not a mere week or two. He wondered if his bond with Draco would make it into the history books, or if no one would care once Pickering claimed him. 

And then Pickering slid his hands up Harry’s thighs, parting them, and the feel of those too-large hands on his body was so, abruptly _wrong_ that Harry’s head cleared briefly. 

“We _are_ powerful,” he said quickly, determined to save Draco, even if it was too late for him. “But we’re powerful because we share our magic, and he’s just not satisfying me anymore. He’s not _strong_ enough to force me to submit. I need another Alpha. I need _you_. I won’t help Malfoy, and he’ll realise I’ve cut him off. He’ll be _terrified_. He’ll do whatever you want.”

“I can make you submit,” Pickering said, pleased. “I will make you mine.”

“Please,” Harry agreed, arching up under him. The heat was overwhelming his mind, again, worse than before, as if he was being punished for his brief rebellion. It filled him with a desire so intense he was _shaking_ with it, until he couldn’t quite remember if he was pleading for the Alpha to stop, or to turn him over and knot him. Pickering’s hands went to his belt, and Harry hissed. “ _Yes_ –”

“Harry!”

Pickering swung around, starting to his feet, and Harry cried out at the loss.

“You _dare_ touch _my_ Omega?” said a voice distorted with rage, and Harry looked up, breath freezing in his throat as he saw his beloved Draco facing off against Pickering, a battle-hardened Auror, a wizard in the prime of his life, and an Alpha in the frenzy of a heat.

~*~

In the end, the duel between Draco and Travis Pickering lasted less than a minute. Harry retained just enough presence of mind to feed his magic through their bond, as Draco had in the final battle, and then Snape appeared around the corner, breathing heavily as if he’d chased Draco all the way from Ravenclaw tower. Together, Snape and Draco took the lust-crazed Pickering down with a few well-aimed, powerful curses that Harry could reluctantly (if distantly) appreciate.

He sobbed in pain when Pickering fell, losing consciousness, because his heat suddenly stalled again, as if it was entirely dependent on an Alpha’s need.

Any Alpha’s need but the one he actually _wanted_.

“Draco,” he begged, and then his Alpha was wrapping himself around him, warm and strong and holding him so tightly, and he rested his head on Draco’s shoulder in relief. His body refused to react to his Alpha’s scent, but he refused to be ruled by his body right now. “Mr Barbary?” he asked.

Draco growled, low in his throat, but it was a reaction borne of instinct, and he brought it under control quickly. “I couldn’t do it, Harry,” he said, with difficulty. “I wanted to kill him, but he apologised, and I couldn’t do it. And then I heard you calling for me –”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered.

“Don’t apologise,” Draco said, his voice catching. “This is all my fault.”

“I _betrayed_ you, again –”

“You would _never_ , not if you had a choice,” Draco said fiercely. “I can’t – I _won’t_ blame you for needing what I, apparently, cannot give you.”

Harry closed his eyes miserably. “I love you,” he offered, and Draco made a sudden, low, wrenching sound in his throat.

“What?” Harry said, his eyes snapping open to look at his Alpha, his heart leaping into his throat. “Draco, _what_?”

“You really – you mean that? You really love me?”

Harry’s brows knitted together. “Of course I do. What are you even _talking_ about? You _know_ I love you!”

“I – I was afraid you didn’t.” Draco’s voice was strained, close to tears. “I was afraid I’d lost your love when I let Dobby die, at the Manor.”

Harry felt the shock of it hit him like a sledgehammer. 

“ _Merlin_ ,” he said, wrapping his own arms around his lover. “No. _Draco_.” How could he have been so lost in his grief that he’d missed _this_? “You saved my _life_! They knew it was me; Hermione’s spell didn’t fool them for a minute. They knew you’d never be in those woods without me. And you distracted them long enough that we made it out of there before Voldemort arrived. Dobby – that wasn’t your fault.”

He’d _never_ blamed Draco for Dobby’s death. Harry had had more than enough power to Apparate through Malfoy Manor’s wards without a wand, but he’d waited too long, and Draco had been so badly injured – taunting his Aunt Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters to draw their attention away from Harry – that he’d expended most of his magic just trying to keep his Alpha alive.

And Dobby had died trying to get them all out. 

“She hurt you, Draco,” he said, “She _hurt_ you, and she killed Dobby, and we killed _her_. None of that changed the way I feel about you; if anything, it made me love you more.” He remembered the way Draco had cried, when Harry had refused to let him help dig that tiny grave, and shook his head. “It _did_ make me love you more.”

“I thought –” Draco’s voice broke. “You were just so _cold_ , afterwards. I couldn’t read you at all. All I could feel was – your grief, and you wouldn’t _talk_ to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, sighing. “I don’t – deal well, with losing people I care about.”

Draco shook his head. “You’ve lost more people than anyone should ever have to. I never expected you to ‘deal well’ with that. We were all – a little messed up. We still are, and you have more right than _anyone_ to deal however you want, however long it takes. I was just – I was just afraid that Dobby was one too many, and you wouldn’t be able to forgive me. I was afraid that I’d – trapped you in a loveless bond; that you’d be miserable for the rest of your life unless I let you go –”

“Merlin!” Harry burst out, horrified. “Draco, for _Salazar’s_ sake! Can’t you feel me? Feel _that_? How much I love you?” He put everything he had into shoving it through their bond, trying to _blind_ Draco with how much he felt for him. It was ridiculous that he didn’t know; Harry had never loved _anyone_ the way he loved Draco.

“Of course I can. You’re hitting me over the head with it,” Draco said dryly, but he swallowed in a way that told Harry this was the first time he’d really _felt_ it through their bond. Which was – so, _so_ wrong, on so many levels.

“Draco, you – how could you not – you _told_ me, during my first heat, that I would _always_ love you. You practically _insinuated_ that it was written into my very _genes_ to love you! How could you doubt it now?”

Draco stared at him blankly. “Because we both know it wasn't true,” he said. “It was just another Omega myth. You told me I had to win your heart, right after we woke up from your first heat, and I _did_. You fell in love with me _without_ the bond.”

Harry frowned. The bond had always been there, ever since Draco had first bitten him. No matter how much Draco wanted to romanticise their beginning, there was no way he could say the bond had _nothing_ to do with their love. "What do you –?”

“I love you too, you know,” Draco interrupted, and the pain in his voice was enough to distract Harry from his question. “More than you could ever know.”

“I do know,” Harry said gently, but Draco just turned his head away, and Harry bit his lip. “Would you really have let me go?”

Draco paled, and his hands clenched convulsively. “I –” His jaw firmed. “Yes. _Yes_. If – if I thought you really couldn’t ever love me again. I was going to wait – until the war ended, until we killed him – and then afterwards, your heat – I couldn’t, I wouldn’t _ever_ leave you like this. I could never leave you _unprotected_ –”

Harry stared at him, remembering his Alpha pocketing the jewellery with the most powerful protective spells. Remembering other things, too – the way Draco had started saying ‘you’, and not ‘us’, when he talked about the future, his slow withdrawal from intimacy (which Harry knew better than most had very little to do with sex), his uncharacteristically quiet acquiescence with Harry’s demands. Draco was his Alpha, but he hadn’t really been _acting_ like it for a long time, now.

“You weren’t going to tell me,” he said slowly. “You were going to sever our bond, _leave_ me, and you were going to give me fucking _jewellery_ as a consolation prize?” He flung himself away, suddenly _vibrating_ with fury. “How _dare_ you? How dare you! This is not a dictatorship, Draco! It’s a _relationship_ , do you not understand that? It’s a two-way street! My submission is a _gift_ – I give it to you freely and willingly, _trusting_ that you won’t abuse it. You do _not_ get to make decisions like that without even _asking_ for my input! What you were going to do – to us, to our _bond_ – that is _abuse_ , Draco!”

Draco looked stricken, his face losing all the colour he had left. “Harry,” he whispered.

“I don’t want your excuses,” Harry said, almost panting with anger. “After everything – _everything_ we’ve been through together –”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, panicked, reaching out to him. “Harry, I’m so sorry!”

“– I thought I meant more to you than just some – some _slave_ for your entertainment!” Harry said, and Draco sucked in a sharp breath, his slender frame trembling so hard that Harry was half-afraid his Alpha would shake himself apart. But he _refused_ to let himself feel sorry for him – Draco had brought this on himself, and he could fucking well _live_ with it.

“Of course you do,” Draco said, voice cracking. “Harry, you _know_ you do. I love you more than anything, more than my own _life_.”

Harry just stared at him. Yesterday he wouldn’t have doubted that for a moment. “I’m having a hard time believing that,” he said slowly, “when you hid something like _this_ from me. How the hell did you do it, Draco? I thought it was impossible. I thought we felt _everything_ from each other through the bond.”

Draco flinched, unable to meet Harry’s accusing gaze. “I know. I – didn’t want you to know. You were so happy that our bond was equal in that one regard, at least, and then when I realised – I couldn’t tell you.”

Harry’s jaw worked. “Realised _what_ , exactly?”

Draco looked shame-faced. “That I could choose what emotions I wanted you to feel from me. It was when we were all sent home, last year – you were so upset about going back to the Dursleys’, I didn’t want to burden you with _my_ – and you didn’t notice. And that's when I realised – the bond was broken.”

“All this time,” Harry said, in horrified disbelief. “This _whole year_ , you’ve been lying to me? Why didn't you just _tell_ me? I thought we were honest with each other!” He hugged his arms across his chest. “Our whole relationship –"

“No – Harry – I never _lied_ , I just – I just hid the feelings I knew would just cause you pain, or distract you from our mission –”

“But you couldn’t even feel _my_ emotions, or you would have _known_ –”

Someone cleared their voice, startling them both. Harry’s head whipped around; he’d completely forgotten Snape was standing there, watching them.

Snape raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Yes, I’m still here, Mr Potter. And while you no doubt believe this teenage melodrama is the end of the world, if you want to protect your Omega, Mr Malfoy, it will have to wait. You have to get him out of this castle, _now_. Over half of the adults volunteering in the clean-up efforts are Alphas, and Mr Potter’s scent is now overpowering.”

“But,” Draco looked between them in confusion, “he still doesn’t smell right –”

“On the contrary,” Snape said. “His scent is completely normal, which is why there is a man lying unconscious at your feet. As you suggested yesterday, _you_ are the problem. Mr Potter _is_ in heat, and a mated Omega’s heat focuses on his Alpha. You are the one preventing him from fixing on you, but his heat has already begun, and in the lack of a mate, he is reverting to his pre-bond physiological responses. While your presence at least appears to be holding the full heat back for the moment, it will not continue to help for much longer, and you will be unable to soothe your Omega’s need. You will be forced to let him go and let another claim him.”

“ _No_ ,” Draco breathed.

“So you’ve changed your mind now, have you?” Harry said sharply. “You _don’t_ want to sever our bond?”

Draco looked torn, anguished. “I never – I didn’t _want_ to, Harry. You have to believe that. I was only going to do it if it was what you _needed_ –”

“You mean if it was what _you_ decided I needed!” Harry retorted. “Do you want to know what I _really_ needed, Draco? I needed to know that you _meant_ it, every time you called me yours! I gave myself to you, let myself be the submissive Omega you needed me to be; the submissive Omega _I_ needed to be. I needed to feel _safe_ , Draco! I needed to _trust_ you. I needed to know that you would keep the first promise you ever made to me – to never, _ever_ let me go. That’s what I fucking _needed_!”

Tears were running freely down Draco's face now. “I did mean it,” he whispered hoarsely. “I meant every word, Harry. I never lied to you – I just wanted what was best for you. I'm your _Alpha_ –”

“Draco,” Snape interrupted, and his tone was strangely gentle. “You _are_ his Alpha, and it is your right to do as you see fit to protect and provide for him. But it is also _his_ right to feel secure in your bond, and it is his right to protect and care for _you_. By hiding parts of yourself from him, even with the intention of protecting him, you were denying him those basic rights – forcing him to make do with only the limited _outward_ signs of the emotions you hid from him; fear, pain, grief, hunger. Love.” He sighed. “That may not be all your fault, of course, if the bond is damaged in some way. But it cannot change the fact that your _souls_ are connected, and you must respect that. You are _meant to be_ , Mr Malfoy, and if you don't want to lose him forever, you will _move. Now_.”

Draco scrambled to his feet, and then hesitated a moment before holding out a hand to Harry.

Harry scowled, looking up to meet Draco's grey eyes. “I haven’t forgiven you,” he said, and Draco nodded, swallowing. But his hand didn't waver, and Harry reached out to take it, bracing himself to trust again.

~*~

Snape took them through the secret passage from the Room of Requirement to Aberforth's inn, unwilling to risk crossing Hogwarts' grounds with so many Alphas about.

They left Pickering where he was, tasking Nearly Headless Nick with waking him once they were safely away.

Aberforth was a Beta, but he took one look at Harry, sandwiched between Draco and Snape, sniffed the air, and then hurried away, muttering something about his goats. 

“Go – _quickly_ , before he changes his mind,” Snape said urgently, hurrying them to the front door.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked, valiantly ignoring the arm Draco had snuck around his waist, holding him close. He wasn’t going to make this easy on his Alpha. Draco didn’t _deserve_ easy, not after such a huge betrayal. _Deliberately_ concealing that there was something wrong with their bond – for a whole _year_ – and then not even telling him the truth when he failed to go into heat, hiding his emotions from Harry (and the fact that he’d done it to _protect_ him just made Harry angrier) – and then, worst of all, deciding to _sever their bond_ , as if that could ever even be an _option_ –

“Malfoy Manor,” Snape said, grasping Harry’s shoulder and spinning in place.

The squeezing, crushing sensation caught him around the chest, and he landed gasping for breath, almost losing his balance. Draco didn’t let him fall, but he looked as shocked as Harry felt at their destination. 

“Severus!” Draco hissed angrily, swinging on the professor. “ _Here_? You _know_ what happened to him here!”

Harry pulled away from him. “ _You_ almost _died_ here, Draco,” he said irritably. “You killed your _aunt_ here. And, apparently, you thought I stopped _loving_ you here. Somehow I think it was just as traumatic for you.”

“Well, yes,” Draco admitted slowly, looking up at the intimidating iron gates. “But – it's home, you know? I already had good and bad memories here. Even after all the bad that happened here during the war, it still doesn’t outweigh the good.” 

And suddenly Draco was pushing memories tentatively through their bond, and Harry saw... a tiny blond boy, learning to fly a broom, playing ‘spot the peacock’ in the snow with his mother, exploring the secret passages with Crabbe and Goyle. Sharing an awkward, messy first kiss, under the willow tree by the river with Pansy. His eighth birthday, so excited at receiving his first wand –

“Eight?” Harry said, struck by the injustice in that. He’d been drawn in despite himself by the picture Draco had been painting of his childhood, but he couldn’t let that go without comment. “You were already practicing magic at _eight_ years old?”

“I was practicing magic as a toddler,” Draco said, simply. “With a child’s wand. I had control of my accidental magic by seven, and I got my first, _real_ wand at eight.”

“But the Ministry, the law against Underage Magic –”

“Can’t control what they can’t see,” Draco said, smirking just a little, his eyes on Harry hopeful. “Our wards –”

“I’m glad you feel this is relevant to your current situation, Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter,” Snape said dryly, “but if I might suggest we continue this conversation safely _inside_ the Manor? Lord and Lady Malfoy are expecting us.”

Draco looked at him, wary. “Oh?”

“I discussed it with them last night,” Snape explained, as he tapped twice on a stone with his wand. The gates swung open slowly, silently, and he ushered them through. “They agreed that it was best to remove you from the castle until the situation is resolved, one way or another. There are too many variables at Hogwarts; too many opportunities for something to go badly wrong. Mr Potter has already been attacked twice.”

Harry frowned. “And you think _Malfoy Manor_ is safer than Hogwarts?” he said dubiously.

“You destroyed Lord Voldemort, remember,” Snape said. “And his Death Eaters have all been rounded –”

“Why does everyone keep _saying_ that?” Harry interrupted crossly. “You of all people, too! You can’t just _ignore_ what Draco did, even if I _am_ the Chosen One. It’s not like I could’ve done it alone! Voldemort was just _playing_ with me until Draco got to me. I wouldn’t have survived without him. And then he gave me his magic – more than he could afford, even –”

“Interesting,” Snape said, with a look at Draco that Harry couldn’t interpret.

“What?” Harry said, looking between them. “ _What_? Draco?”

“Your Alpha has been allowing people to believe that you defeated Voldemort on your own,” Snape said.

Harry stopped in his tracks. “ _Excuse_ me?” he hissed.

Draco flinched. “No, I – I never _lied_ , exactly – I just didn’t tell them the whole truth.” Harry just glared at him, and he shook his head, eyes pleading. “You’re an _Omega_ , Harry. No one respects Omegas; not as witches and wizards in their own right. If the public knew I helped you – even in the small way I did – you _know_ all they’d see is your Alpha. They’d talk about it like it was _my_ achievement. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened. This way, at least, maybe what you’ve done will help to change how people see Omegas, a little.”

Harry just stared at him. 

“I have _never_ ,” he began, voice trembling slightly, “been _this_ angry with you – not even when you gave Norbet up to Professor McGonagall, or when you made up that _awful_ song about Ron in fifth year, or when you passed out after that near-miss with that Snatcher because you hadn’t eaten in _three days_ –” Draco ducked his head, and Harry sighed. “You deserve recognition for your part in Voldemort’s death, but – I understand that you did it for me. And even if it doesn't make much of a difference right now, if it can help other Omegas in the future – well, I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Draco turned away too quickly, and Harry knew his Alpha was fighting back tears. He bit his own lip, hard. It was really, _really_ annoying, knowing someone so well when he was trying to stay (absolutely, and completely _justifiably_ ) angry with him.

“Don’t cry, Draco,” he said at last, relenting. “I _do_ love you, even when you’re an overbearing, annoying, _lying_ little twit.”

Snape made a muffled cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Indeed. And if you don’t stop blubbering into each others’ arms like the twits you _both_ are and ring that doorbell, Master Malfoy, I will horrify both your parents _and_ your house-elves by barging in without knocking.”

Draco scoffed weakly. “You would never breach etiquette like that, Severus, not with my parents. I know you too well to be fooled by your bluffs.” Still, he took the stairs two at a time and rang the doorbell, and when he glanced back at Harry, his eyes were shining.

“So, your parents,” Harry said, trying to fill the awkward pause, because a nice gesture and an ‘I love you’ were not going to fix this sudden rift between them, “they’re both Betas?”

The great door began to swing open, but Draco turned back to Harry in surprise. “No, of course not,” he said. “They’re both Alphas.” 

And Harry's mouth dropped open in horror.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected Alphas abound!

“Are you fucking _crazy_?” Harry shouted furiously, taking several, quick steps backwards. Draco just stared at him with his mouth agape, as if he truly didn’t understand the problem, and that made Harry angrier. “What is _wrong_ with you? You _want_ your parents to try to rape me, is that it? Or have you forgotten Barbary and Pickering already?”

A muscle twitched in Draco’s jaw, but at that moment Narcissa Malfoy appeared in the doorway behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. She was as beautiful and poised as ever, her white-blonde hair done up in an elaborate braid, soft, pale blue robes flowing around her feet delicately. When she smiled at Harry, his heart lurched. Ever since Draco had claimed him, Narcissa seemed to have decided that Harry was her second son, and he couldn't bear the idea of his heat _changing_ that; changing the way she looked at him. The idea of that motherly love he tried _so_ hard to pretend he didn't crave being twisted, perverted into lust and hormone-driven need... he couldn’t _bear_ it.

“Mrs Malfoy,” he choked out, and turned to run.

Snape caught his arm and reeled him in, effectively halting his head-long dash away before he'd even taken a single step. “Don't be a fool, Potter,” he bit out. “You think I would have brought you here if it put you or the Malfoys in danger? You think Draco would permit his parents to lay even a _finger_ on you?”

“But –”

“Harry,” Narcissa greeted, descending the steps gracefully. She made no move towards him, though, glancing back at Draco instead – just like Madam Pomfrey always did, deferring to Draco when it came to his care. But unlike Madam Pomfrey, Narcissa had done it only once before – just after their first heat, when Draco had been struggling with his desperate need to show the world that Harry was _his_ , and his need to please his Omega. He had been fluctuating between a high-handed, almost _cloying_ possessiveness, and a painful-to-watch polite distance, and Ron and Hermione had only exacerbated the situation by their insistence on treating Harry as if he had no Alpha at all. 

Narcissa’s consideration had been a breath of fresh air, at the time. For both of them.

Now – now, with his second heat roaring through his veins, Harry was pathetically grateful that Draco’s mother always seemed to know _exactly_ what he needed. To feel _safe_ ; to know that, especially in this horrifically vulnerable state, having an Alpha meant that he would always be protected – that his _children_ would always be protected. Even if said Alpha was behaving like a complete _git_ at this present moment.

Draco nodded at his mother cautiously, and Harry’s heart leapt into his throat. Narcissa glided forward, bending to kiss his cheek, and Harry tried to struggle away. But Snape’s grip on his arms was inescapable, and Harry whimpered, closing his eyes and bracing for the inevitable onslaught of his heat.

It never came. 

He opened his eyes wide again in surprise, staring at her. The touch felt just like Snape's; completely neutral against his too-warm skin. “I don’t understand,” he said, and she smiled again, sadly.

“Oh, my darling. I am so _very_ sorry for what you're going through right now.” She looked genuinely sorrowful, and Harry felt that secret thrill he always got whenever Draco's mother behaved as if she truly cared about _him_ , too. “Please, come in, all of you,” she said, and then touched Snape’s arm as he passed. “Severus. It’s good to see you.”

Snape stopped abruptly, his hand on Harry’s arm falling away.

“Lady Malfoy,” he breathed, and Narcissa leaned forward to kiss him. On the mouth.

Harry stared, jaw falling open. Draco was there instantly, a hand on his elbow, leading him away into the house. “Close your mouth, Harry,” he said softly, a hint of an amused smile playing on his lips. “Not even _you_ can make that look sexy.”

Harry frowned at him. “Don’t flirt with me, Draco. What are they _doing_? If your Dad finds out –”

Draco just chuckled. “Believe me, he knows.”

“He _knows_?” Harry said in disbelief. Well. If _that_ was how Draco had grown up, no bloody _wonder_ his concept of love was so screwed up. Not that, he thought a moment later, he really had a leg to stand on in that regard. His own childhood – being neglected by the only family he had, watching his cousin being spoilt and over-indulged to the point that it was almost abuse of another kind – probably had not given him a particularly healthy concept of love, either.

Draco arched an eyebrow at him. “It’s not an affair. Severus lost his Alpha when Dumbledore died, remember? The Ministry had better things to think about at the time, but with Snape’s new hero status, he’s in the papers almost as much as you now. There’s no way the Ministry would have allowed him to remain un-bonded for long.”

“So – your _Mum_ claimed him? And your Dad doesn’t _mind_?”

“I don’t know the details,” Draco shrugged, “but I believe Mother placed the claim, yes. Severus identifies as straight, remember. But that doesn’t mean Father will be excluded from the relationship. I imagine they approached him together. They both love him deeply, you know, and it was _Father_ who cared for him during his first heats, before my parents were married.”

Harry blinked, trying to wrap his head around what he thought Draco was implying. Snape was – sleeping with _both_ of Draco’s parents, now? At the _same time_? Oh Merlin.

Draco nudged him, smiling. “You’re beautiful when you blush.”

Harry tried to glare at his Alpha. “Shut it,” he said weakly. “I’m not going to let you charm your way back into my good graces. It doesn’t work like that. You _betrayed_ me, you _lied_ to me – you were going to sever our _bond_ –”

“He was _what_?” a voice said sharply, and Harry whirled, thrusting out his hand defensively – only to lower it again sheepishly when he remembered that Lucius Malfoy wasn’t his enemy. It was instinct, still, apparently, even after all Lucius had done for the Order, and for him personally.

“Oh. Mr Malfoy,” he greeted stiffly. “Sorry, sir. How are you?”

“Better,” Lucius said. He leaned heavily on his cane at the base of the Great Staircase, his back ramrod-straight, holding himself so proudly that Harry almost didn’t even notice the absence of his right arm. Almost. “No small thanks to you, Mr Potter.”

Harry shifted awkwardly. “It was the least I could do. And, uh – I wanted to thank you. For,” he gestured towards Draco. “I wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t for what you did. For what you sacrificed. Draco was only just in time.”

Lucius regarded Harry with piercing grey eyes. “My sacrifice was nothing compared to the losses others suffered,” he said, at last. “You saved my son, Mr Potter. You saved him from _himself_ when you accepted his claim, you saved his family, and you saved his _life_ – more than once during the war, I don’t doubt. Not to mention, you saved us all when you defeated the Dark Lord. Mere words cannot express my gratitude for all you have done for this family, and for the world.”

Harry flushed. “I couldn’t have done it without Draco,” he said, firmly. "He saved me, too."

“And my son is treating you well?” Lucius said, looking between them, and Harry suddenly remembered just when the man had walked into their conversation.

“Oh,” he said, slanting a glance at his Alpha. The look on Draco’s face was a combination of terrified and resigned, shrinking in on himself as if in expectation of a blow, and Harry knew he couldn't do that to him. Draco’s whole life had been about trying to live up to his father's insane standards, and Harry might be upset with his Alpha right now, but if they ever wanted to fix what had been broken, restore _trust_ , they had to stand united as always. 

“It’s nothing, sir,” he said. “Just a private misunderstanding. Draco treats me like a gentleman, and he _always_ has the best intentions –”

“Even the best of intentions do not mean one always gets it right,” Lucius said severely, and Draco flinched.

Harry moved closer to his Alpha automatically. “He gets it right _enough_ ,” he said sharply. “No one in their right mind expects perfection from their partner. Or their _child_.”

Draco sucked in a startled breath, and the elder Malfoy's eyes narrowed. But then Narcissa was there, laying a delicate hand on her husband's arm and smiling around at them all. “You’re quite right, Harry,” she said warmly. “Although I do hope you’ll forgive me when I admit to a mother’s bias in thinking both my boys are already perfect.”

For a moment, Harry thought she was talking about Draco and Lucius, but the way she was smiling at him... 

A lump formed in his throat, and he had to blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “Mrs Malfoy –”

“Please, Harry, call me Narcissa,” she said gently. “Draco, your room is made up, and you have just enough time to freshen up before lunch. We’ll see you both in half an hour.”

~*~

Lunch was largely uneventful, with the exception of Snape’s increasingly odd behaviour. He was affectionate in a way that had Lord and Lady Malfoy raising eyebrows at each other even as they indulged him, and Harry wondered uncomfortably if Snape had needed this all along, to touch and _be_ touched, and if Dumbledore had denied him those touches as another way to control him.

As if manipulating him through his love for Lily – his true mate – hadn't been enough.

It made Harry once again thankful that he’d been so lucky in his own Alpha. Draco could be an idiot sometimes (all right, a _lot_ ), but he genuinely _tried_ , and he was never, ever cruel.

He moved a little closer to Draco at the lunch table, and later that evening, when a house-elf announced a Mr Pius Piddle of Piddletrenthide, and a tall, elderly but _extremely_ obvious Alpha (or was that just Harry's heat making every Alpha glow like a fucking beacon in the dark?) walked into the room, he didn't even put up a token protest at the way Draco slipped a possessive arm around his waist, growling softly.

“Pius,” Lucius said, standing to shake the wizard's hand. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s _lovely_ to see you again,” Narcissa added warmly, showing him to a seat. 

Pius smiled at them both, his eyes crinkling. “The pleasure is mine,” he assured them, making himself comfortable, “but I admit I would not have come had Severus not assured me that it was of the _utmost_ urgency, involving an Omega's welfare.” He looked around the room, concerned. “Where _is_ my dear Severus?”

“He retired to bed early,” Narcissa explained. “He was feeling a little under the weather, but he asked me to pass on his thanks for coming, and to assure you that he is well and happy.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Pius said, looking relieved, and Harry was inexplicably pleased that the only other Omega he knew had someone who cared for him that much. Apart from, apparently, the Malfoys. “Naturally, I assumed he meant himself when his owl mentioned an Omega, but now I see I was wrong.” The elderly wizard turned to Harry suddenly, eyes boring into him as if he was stripping him down to his very soul. “Harry Potter.”

Draco pulled him closer, his growl reaching an audible pitch, vibrating through Harry’s chest. Pius didn't look angry or aggravated by the hostility, though; he just nodded and sat back in his chair. “I see,” he said, his tone gentling. “There is something wrong. Something – preventing your heat?”

“How do you know that?” Harry said suspiciously. Not even _Snape_ had known, at first, and the Alphas (all except Draco, of course) certainly hadn't. “And while we're on the subject, what the _hell_ – oh, sorry, Mrs Malfoy –” he apologised, at her delicate wince, “but – I don't understand what's going _on_. Why aren't any of you reacting to – you know. My scent?"

“Ah. Well, I am afraid my reason for that, at least, is very uninteresting,” Pius said, smiling at him. “I am two hundred and seventy-seven years old, Mr Potter. And while I pride myself on maintaining my youthful vigor in many ways – ah, unfortunately sexual relations is not one of them.”

Harry stared, mouthing ‘ _two hundred and_...’

Pius just chuckled. “I know what you’re thinking, Mr Potter, but no – no magical means. Just a regular diet of spinach and prune juice, walking my darling Crup, Daisy, and staying out of the way of any stray Dark wizards or cursed objects. After all, if one is careful, and sensible, there is really no telling how long a wizard's lifespan can be. As to why the _Malfoys_ are exempt from your heat – Lady Malfoy is bonded to an Omega, and Lord Malfoy is bonded to _her_. They will not respond to your scent, just as young Master Malfoy would not respond to dear Severus should _he_ choose to go into heat.”

“Oh,” Harry said. That made sense, he supposed. But – “Wait, no, hang on, Dumbledore was still affected by my heat, last time, and he was bonded to Snape at the time.”

Pius looked deeply disapproving. “An Alpha-Omega bond requires _intimacy_ to connect two people – sexual, physical, and _emotional_ intimacy. Their so-called ‘bond’ was entirely platonic, and extremely rigid and unaffectionate – Dumbledore refused to give Severus what he needed, and kept him tied to him rather than allowing another Alpha to claim him. He bit him, of course, sixteen years ago, but an Alpha-Omega bond will never be more than half-formed without the knotting.”

Harry twitched, heat slowly flushing his cheeks. It was more than a little disconcerting to hear a two-hundred-and-seventy-seven-year-old talking so casually about _knotting_ , especially in relation to _Dumbledore_. “How do you know all this?” he said.

“Mr Piddle is the world’s only expert on Omegas,” Lucius explained. “Severus contacted him as soon as he realised what was happening to you.”

“You can help?” Draco said quickly, leaning forward, his eyes focusing on the elderly wizard for the first time without aggression. “Do you know what's wrong with me, sir?”

“My dearest child,” Pius said kindly, “I can assure you with the _greatest_ confidence that there is nothing wrong with you. The Wild Magic only chooses Alphas for its precious children, its Omegas, with the _utmost_ of care – Alphas with the purest hearts, the most caring of spirits. The most _potential_. I very sincerely hope I am privileged enough to live another thirty years at least, young Master Malfoy, because you have the potential to be a very great man – to be a force for change in the wizarding world, and do a great many good deeds that will live on in history books and the minds of wizarding kind and magical creatures alike.”

Draco was trembling slightly, and Harry gripped his Alpha’s knee. “But –” Draco swallowed, “but Dumbledore – he had a true bond once, with Grindlewald, and he –”

“Albus Dumbledore was an arrogant young fool!” Pius snapped, and Harry couldn’t contain a surprised snort of laughter. He’d heard Dumbledore called many, many things, especially since his death, but ‘young’ was not one of them. “Please do not compare yourself to him, Master Malfoy. He was angry, and proud, and he cast his broken Omega aside instead of trying to help him, and then lived his life as if he had learned _nothing_ from the experience. Almost certainly he had great potential, once – as you do – but potential is nothing without a humble heart and an open mind. Remember that.”

Draco frowned. “What about _Harry’s_ potential?”

Pius smiled. “Your Harry is already an incredibly special person. He will change and grow and learn from his mistakes, as all good people do. You, on the other hand, had the potential to go either way – to do great good, or great _harm_. If you want to live up to the potential that we both know is inside you – do your Omega proud – you must be willing to listen to and learn from him.” 

Draco nodded slowly. “I will, sir.”

Harry pursed his lips. “If you really mean that, Draco, you can’t hide anything from me anymore. And you can’t _lie_ to me – even if you think it’s for my own good.”

Draco spun to face him, his eyes wide. “I know. I won’t! I’m sorry, Harry, I really am. I love you, and I’ve _always_ wanted to make you proud. I should have told you right from the start that there was something wrong with our bond. And I should have _asked_ instead of just assuming your feelings had changed –”

“Yes, you really should have,” Harry agreed. And then he sighed, because it wasn’t all Draco’s fault, and it wasn’t fair of him to keep pretending it was. “But I shouldn’t have gone so long without telling you I loved you. Two months – I’m so _sorry_ , Draco. I can’t believe I did that to you.”

“You were grieving,” Draco excused him immediately. “And you had other, more important things on your mind –”

“ _Nothing_ is more important than us,” Harry said flatly.

“Regardless,” Draco said, looking shyly pleased. “I never wanted to hurt you, Harry. I don’t care about – about being great, or being _remembered_. I just want to make you happy, and – when we’re both ready – make our _children_ happy.”

“I know,” Harry said gently, and let his Alpha kiss him.

~*~

Pius Piddle insisted they tell him everything, and, to Harry’s great surprise, Draco was more than willing to do so. Or perhaps it wasn’t surprising at all – Pius seemed confident in his ability to help them, and Harry had always known that Draco would do _anything_ if it meant saving him.

The elderly wizard was a font of knowledge, too. He knew almost as much about the intimate details of their bond as they did, which was admittedly a little disconcerting, but mostly reassuring. 

“Every Alpha-Omega bond is different,” Pius told them. “But there are similarities enough. I believe what differences there are come from the needs and wants of each individual couple – for example, one bonded couple I knew in South America were forced by necessity to spend long periods of time apart. Their bond allowed them to feel the physical touch of their lover even thousands of miles apart, easing the pain of being parted.”

“When Harry was being attacked, I heard him screaming my name through the bond,” Draco said, cautiously. “We’ve never been able to communicate with words before, just pictures and emotions.”

“And these emotions, do they come through the bond passively, or is it an active process, pushing them through?”

Draco hesitated. “At the start, it was passive," he said. "At least, on Harry’s part. I could feel _everything_ from him. He could never conceal a single emotion from me, and I thought that went both ways. That was how it was _supposed_ to be. But... I discovered fairly quickly that I could hide my feelings from him.”

Harry scowled down at his lap.

“And why assume that was damage to your bond?” Pius pressed. “Why not simply a natural element of your bond? You know the popular theory is that, as his Alpha, you have unequal power in your relationship.”

Harry glanced sideways at Draco. His Alpha was frowning.

“No. It’s been damaged somehow, I know it. I’ve _always_ known it. And – and I’ve stopped feeling _him_ , too. It’s like it’s been getting worse over time – like the tear in our bond has been growing, the distance between us getting worse and _worse_ , and it _hurts_ –”

“Draco,” Harry whispered. He’d felt it too, of course, but he’d had no idea his Alpha was _suffering_ like this. 

Pius nodded. “Your instinct serves you well, Master Malfoy. I believe you are quite correct, and your bond _has_ been damaged in some way. Popular theories are, after all, usually rubbish.”

Harry looked at Pius curiously. “You don’t think it’s true, then, what they say? But the law –”

“The _law_ ,” Pius scoffed. “The law in wizarding Britain certainly grants your Alpha unequal _rights_ – the right to marry outside the bond, the right to _own_ you in every sense of the word, to keep you in whatever condition he chooses. But the law was written by the very rich, powerful Alphas of bygone eras, who stole their Omegas from their true mates. Your bond – a true bond – cannot constrained by laws and dictates. You are sealed together at the very _soul_ , Mr Potter. Some have even theorised that you are not merely soul-mates, but two halves of _one_ soul, separated at birth but always, _always_ destined to find one another, no matter how long it takes.”

Draco shifted, closing a hand over Harry’s. “I believe that,” he said, firmly.

Harry felt his chest warm, and he turned his hand over in Draco’s, linking their fingers together. “So, if Draco’s right, what happened? How – _when_ did the damage occur?”

“I think your Alpha already knows the answer to that,” Pius said. 

Harry froze. “ _What_?”

Draco was already shaking his head. “No – Harry, I _swear_ I don’t – I –” he hesitated, “well, maybe –”

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “If you’ve been keeping _more_ secrets from me, Draco –”

“I haven’t, Harry, _honestly_ – I just –” Draco looked at Pius, panicked, “just, maybe – what if it was the Horcrux? _Your_ Horcrux? We were _fine_ during your heat, remember, and then for a little while afterwards... but that Horcrux – it wanted to _hurt_ us. It lashed out at me – at my soul. I almost _died_. I would have if it wasn’t for you. And – we’re _linked_ at the soul. What if it hurt our bond, somehow? And like a rip in fabric, it’s slowly been tearing us apart ever since.”

Harry nodded slowly. “That – I don’t know why, exactly, but that feels right,” he said.

Draco relaxed with a sigh. 

“When it comes to an Alpha-Omega bond, I find it is always best to defer to the instincts of the pair,” Pius said. “The bond is an integral part of you both; the link that connects you, more important by far than any individual limb or organ. Your hearts beat as one, and a bond like that cannot be underestimated. Fortunately, I know some old spells and rituals we can try to repair the damage. But it will not be easy; we are speaking of soul magic, and there is no more dangerous or powerful magic than that of the soul.”

“We’ll do it,” Harry said immediately. “Right, Draco?”

Draco nodded slowly, heart in his eyes. “Anything for you.”

“For _us_ ,” Harry said. He turned to face Pius, taking a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come. “Tell us what we have to do.”


	5. Chapter Five

It was well past midnight when Harry dropped to his knees, trembling and exhausted. He lifted an arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and couldn’t quite manage it. Instead, he leaned forward to rest his forehead on the couch, groaning. Draco was already sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, his legs splayed out inelegantly in front of him, and he slid slowly sideways into Harry. “Tell me you’re all right,” he begged.

“Mm,” Harry mumbled, hoping it sounded like an affirmative. He groped for Draco’s hand; wrapped it around his thigh instead. “I love you.”

“And that, I think, is my cue to leave,” Pius said, standing with a creak. He laughed softly. “Listen to those old bones. Enjoy your youth, boys – I predict many, many happy years to come.”

Harry found the energy to turn his head at that, hopeful. “It’s fixed, then, sir?”

“That I can’t say,” Pius said. “But you should know within the next twenty-four hours. For now, I recommend a good night’s sleep, and for you _not to worry_. That will only stress your bond, and drive you further apart. There are still options we’ve yet to explore – more difficult, perhaps, but I am confident we will find a way.”

Harry grimaced. _More_ difficult was not exactly a pleasant prospect after the last five rituals.

“No. This is it,” Draco murmured, leaning more heavily into Harry’s side. “I know it.”

Pius broke into a wide smile. “Well, then. I am very pleased to hear it, Master Malfoy. Please, do not hesitate to contact me in future, any time at all. That goes for you, too, Mr Potter. It was a pleasure and a privilege to meet you both, and I wish you all the very best.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Harry said, yawning. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but didn’t fight it when Narcissa stroked his hair gently, whispering to him to sleep. He sighed and let them close, feeling loved and happy.

“I’ll take the boys upstairs,” Narcissa said to Pius, in a hushed voice. “Lucius will show you out. We are so very grateful for your help, Mr Piddle.”

Harry was only vaguely aware of the polite goodbyes and thank-yous after that, and then a floating sensation before he settled into something soft and comfortable. He rolled towards Draco instinctively, and Draco’s arms pulled him closer, snuggling him against that strong, warm chest, and he fell asleep.

~*~

Long hours later, he woke, pressed into the mattress with his Alpha wrapped around him. One of Draco’s legs was pressed between his own, snug up against his groin, and white-blond hair tickled at his nose.

Harry sighed and let himself drift, relishing the overwhelming _comfort_ of just being in Draco’s arms again. It felt like forever since they’d been really, truly _intimate_ , and – He froze. There was something different. Their bond had never felt like this before. He could actually _feel_ Draco, a sleeping presence in the corner of his mind. It was – _incredible_. Incredible enough that it was almost completely drowning out his arousal. 

Almost – but not quite.

Draco stirred, and pressed a sleepy kiss to Harry’s temple. “What time s’it?” he slurred.

“Don’t know,” Harry said, marveling at the way the bond was blossoming as Draco woke. He could feel – _everything_. Draco was a little disgruntled, a little grumpy at being awake (naturally enough; Draco was _not_ a morning person – Harry had just never felt that from the _inside_ before), comfortable and just slightly confused at being in his own bed, at Malfoy Manor. He grumbled a little, snuggling a little closer. Harry smiled, all too well aware that if he let him, Draco would go right back to sleep.

“I think breakfast has come and gone, though,” he said pointedly, “and I am _starved_.” His stomach chose that moment to growl, and Draco chuckled drowsily, amusement and happiness and contentment coming through the bond so strongly that Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

“Can’t convince you to stay in bed?” Draco wheedled, stretching up to press a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips. Of course, his eyes were still closed, so he missed and caught Harry's chin instead, and Harry smiled affectionately.

“I am _really_ hungry,” he said, apologetically. “I haven’t been this hungry in – forever.”

“All right,” Draco said, agreeably enough. “Let’s go down to breakfast, then. Or brunch, I suppose.” He yawned, stretching, and then suddenly stopped mid-motion, his whole body freezing. Harry waited for it, happiness filling him up until he thought he might burst with it. “I can _feel_ you,” Draco breathed. “Harry!” He twisted, his entire face lit up in surprised delight. “Harry, I can feel – you’re tired, but only in that just-woke-up-well-rested kind of way, you’re really, really hungry – a healthy hunger – you’re _happy_ , content – _in love_ –”

“Always in love,” Harry agreed, smiling back at him. “I can feel you too.” And it was so different – so much _more_ than the tiny morsels Draco had been feeding him for so long – “It’s _amazing_.”

“Yes, you are,” Draco said, his eyes bright, and Harry flushed.

“Not always,” he said, awkwardly. “I wanted to apologise – for doubting you, yesterday. With your mother. You knew she wouldn’t be affected by my heat when you let her touch me, and I should have trusted that. I should have trusted _you_.”

Draco sobered, but Harry could still feel his bubbling happiness in the corner of his mind, and he relaxed. Draco wasn't angry with him. “Yes, you should have,” his Alpha said. “But it's my fault you didn't. I hurt you. I breached your trust. I know that will take time to rebuild.”

“For both of us,” Harry said quickly. “You’re not in this alone, Draco. You won’t ever be, again.”

Draco smiled at him brilliantly. “Get dressed, Potter. You’re making me hungry, too.”

Harry leaned in and kissed him, but his rumbling stomach drove them apart again, and Draco laughed.

~*~

They went downstairs to find the dining room deserted, a large buffet of food on the bench at the front of the room. They settled down for a long, satisfying brunch, and Snape joined them closer to lunch-time, regarding them warily.

Draco just stared back at him defiantly, tightening his arm around Harry and continuing to feed him.

Snape rolled his eyes and took a seat, filling his plate. “I take it Pius was successful, then,” he said dryly.

Harry let his eyes close, leaning back into his Alpha. “I feel _great_ ,” he agreed. “ _We_ feel great.” He was warm and happy and content, and so was Draco, and now they were pleasantly full, and arousal was a slow flush through his whole body. He wriggled a little, turning his head to mouth at Draco’s neck. “I want you,” he murmured.

“Potter!” Snape exclaimed. “I have no desire to hear –” He cut himself off abruptly. “Great Salazar grant me mercy, _no_. You’re in heat.”

“Mm,” Harry agreed absently, as his Alpha’s hands trailed slow circles over his stomach. His skin was tingling, cock hardening, slick wetness slipping down his thighs, and he opened his eyes. “ _Oh_ ,” he said, thrilled. “You’re right. I’m in _heat_.”

“And so am _I_ , you idiot boy!”

Draco made a startled noise, and Harry’s eyes snapped open. He stared at Snape in shock. “But – but, sir – professor, your _suppressant_ –”

“Can apparently be overridden by prolonged exposure to another Omega in heat!” Snape snapped, stumbling to his feet. His face was red, and he was holding himself in such an awkward, obvious way that Harry was suddenly _bloody_ relieved the man always wore those large, billowing robes. “I’ve been feeling off since yesterday – clearly the pheromones you've been pumping out have been gradually breaking down the chemicals in my system –”

“Oh,” Harry said, sheepishly. “Sorry, sir.”

“Not as sorry as you’re _going_ to be, believe me,” Snape said ominously, grimacing as he shifted. “Next time, Potter – next time, you are _taking the damn suppressant_.”

“No,” Draco said, nosing behind Harry's ear, drawing in a deep lungful of his scent, “he’s really not.” He exhaled shakily, and then bit down. Harry cried out, shuddering helplessly. “Really, _really_ not,” Draco moaned. “ _Merlin_ , Harry. I’d forgotten how _good_ you smell like this.”

Snape made a strangled groan and spun on his heel, bursting out of the room.

“Thank fucking Merlin,” Draco said flatly, lifting Harry onto the table and sweeping the dishes out of the way. Half of them fell, shattering on the floor, and Draco shoved Harry down onto his back. Harry gasped, and Draco grinned down at him fiercely, showing his teeth. “I thought he'd never leave, and I _really_ didn’t want to do this with an audience.”

“Clothes,” Harry panted, scrabbling at Draco's shirt. “Clothes, Draco –”

“Yes,” Draco said, and promptly stripped Harry of every stitch of clothing with one, tiny flick of his finger. 

Harry moaned in frustration. “ _No_ – Draco, I meant _your_ –”

“Spread your legs,” Draco murmured, lips touching the shell of Harry's ear, making him shiver. “Hold them up. I want to see how wet you are for me.”

“Merlin,” Harry said, helplessly. He obeyed, of course; he had no choice. Draco’s voice had a direct link to his cock, drawing his balls up tight, making his hole twitch with need, the wetness slipping down his crack and pooling on the table. “Draco – your parents _eat_ on –”

“I'm going to eat _you_ ,” Draco said, his eyes devouring Harry ravenously. “Every _inch_ of you.” Harry reached for him instinctively, but Draco growled and Harry hastily pulled his legs up and apart again. He wanted to suggest that Draco close the door, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t go down very well, and besides, he suspected Snape and Draco’s parents were going to be busy for quite some time, too.

“Good boy,” Draco praised him. He pressed his thumbs into Harry’s hole, stretching it out a little. “So wet for me,” he groaned, bending to lick a stripe all the way from Harry’s hole up to his balls.

Harry jerked, yelping. “Please,” he blurted. “Please – fuck me – _knot_ me – I need you –”

“I know,” Draco said, and he sounded so gleeful, so _possessive_ , like a child with a favourite toy that had been lost and was now found, that Harry couldn’t help but laugh happily.

“This is different,” he said wonderingly. “It’s not like last time.” Yes, he wanted to be held down and fucked, but he _always_ wanted that, if not with quite the same desperate, overwhelming intensity as during his heat. And – yes, maybe he could feel that deep, burning desire to be held down and bitten and _bred_ by his mate, but he was still _him_ , ridiculous fantasises of being a father at seventeen aside. He was just – really, really _hot_ , and really – oh Merlin, _really_ wet.

“Please,” he said, arching his neck to one side for the bite. “Please, Draco –”

“We’re mated now,” Draco said, ignoring his not-so-subtle request. “Of course it’s not like last time. Now quiet – all I want to hear from you are moans and screams, understand?”

“I can't beg?” Harry asked, widening his eyes innocently, and his Alpha’s eyes flashed. He smiled inwardly; Draco was _hopelessly_ incapable of resisting him when he begged, and they both knew it.

“You can try,” Draco allowed. “If you can talk at _all_ by the time I’m through with you, then I’m doing it wrong.”

“Ooh, another challenge, I like – _argh_!” Harry cried out as Draco stuck his tongue up his arse. His Alpha licked and slurped, sucking messily at the slick wetness Harry was producing. He moaned at the taste, sending a shock of shivers down Harry's spine, fucking his tongue in and out until his jaw had to be aching, but still he kept on, and on, and _on_ , driving Harry _insane_. He writhed on the table, hands turning slippery with sweat, his thighs trembling with need. “P-please,” he sobbed, fire shooting up his spine. His toes clenched and tears sprang to his eyes as Draco’s tongue dug deeper, wriggling inside him. “ _Please_!”

“Merlin!” Draco wrenched himself away, panting, his whole body shaking. “Harry, y-you’re _killing_ me –”

“I’m killing _you_ –!” Harry said, his voice high-pitched and cracking at the edges. He laughed brokenly. “Draco, please, _please_ –” He wrenched his neck even further to one side, and Draco’s eyes darkened, breath quickening as he scrambled up onto the table between Harry’s legs. He bent over him with a fierce expression. 

“You want it, don’t you? I can _smell_ how much you want it. You want me to bite you, make you submit. Make you loose and pliant and _mine_ for the taking. Just a vessel for my knot, for my pleasure. You want me to _claim_ you, don't you? For _everyone_ to see. My mark on your skin.”

Harry whimpered, tears in his eyes. “Please. Please, yes, Draco.”

“I’m going to bite you,” Draco said in satisfaction, “and it’s going to _scar_ this time. No Alpha will _ever_ look at you again without seeing that you are _owned_ , Harry. You are _mine_. Forever. And I'm never letting you go.”

Harry shuddered, whining in his throat. He let go of his legs to reach for his Alpha, but Draco had pulled back a little. “I’m going to mark you,” he said again. “But – Harry – I want you to –”

“You want my consent,” Harry said, blinking slowly. Lust was throbbing through his body, burning him up from the inside, making it hard to think, to understand; words were clumsy things, fractured, meaningless. But Draco's need came through their bond loud and clear. “You have it, Draco,” he said, and meant it with every fibre of his being. He _wanted_ it; wanted to please his Alpha, wanted to have a visible, _permanent_ symbol of his Alpha’s ownership on his skin, to show the world, yes – but more than that, much more than that, he wanted evidence that he was _Draco’s_. That Draco loved him enough, _needed_ him enough, to mark him forever. To _keep_ him forever.

“But you’re in heat,” Draco said, looking pained. “And – I hurt you last time. I took you, claimed you while you were under the influence, and I know it took me too long to realise what that cost you –”

“No," Harry said, in instinctive denial. "I mean – yes, but – I _chose_ you, Draco. Even under the influence, I knew who I _didn’t_ want. And who I did. That has to count for something. And you were right; we fell in love without the bond. Even when it was broken, _we_ weren’t. We weren't, Draco. Every day since I got my memory back, it's been _my choice_. A choice you’ve never given me cause to doubt.”

“Until I decided to sever our bond without your consent,” Draco said, hoarsely. “I won’t do that again, Harry. I _can’t_ – but your heat –”

“Is different,” Harry said. “It’s _different_ this time, Draco, you said it yourself. I need you, I _need_ your bite, and your knot, but –” he swallowed, struggling not to beg, not to arch his back and tilt his head in offering, to pull his legs further apart – “but I’m _here_ , Draco, this time – all of me. And you were going to tear us apart, _permanently_. If you refuse to mark me as yours when I’ve _told you_ I want it... you’re doing it again. You’re disregarding me again, you're _hurting_ me again –”

Draco’s face fell. “I promised I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then,” Harry said, finally, _finally_ giving into the urge to offer his throat again to his Alpha, “then bite me. Mark me. _Please_ , Draco.”

Draco looked at him for a long moment; dark, wide-blown eyes weighing his words even as he fought the irresistible pull of Harry's pheromones. But he _was_ fighting, fighting for _them_. Harry could feel it, and it made his heart swell with joy and pride and love.

“You really want it?” Draco asked, his whole body shaking.

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry hissed, and his lover broke at last, lunging forward to fit his teeth around Harry’s pulse point and bite down, _hard_. It was so deep that Harry jerked in pain, but then the hormones took over, flooding through his body and turning pain into pleasure, pleasure into _ecstasy_. He melted into the table, lifting his hands to curl into Draco’s hair, pressing him in closer.

Draco growled against his throat, and the noise vibrated through Harry’s body, making every hair stand on end. “Please,” he murmured, feeling a trickle slide down the side of his neck. Draco had made him bleed. He made a little, pleading noise, arching his hips up, his hole slick and wet and open, that tormenting itch making him squirm with need – to be taken, to be filled, to _come_. He wanted to come, he was so _close_ , and Draco was lapping at his throat now, little kitten-licks that made him want to cry. 

“ _Please_ , Draco, please –”

And then his Alpha wrenched himself away, looking down at him hungrily. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he said, “and you’re going to come on my knot.”

Harry almost sobbed in relief. “ _Yes_.”

~*~

Time ceased to have any meaning. It could have been hours or days later that Harry found himself lying on his stomach on Draco’s bed, his Alpha’s knot tying them together for the third time that day, pumping him full of cum. He was sore, and tired – _exhausted_ , really – and he couldn’t even remember how they’d made it up from the dining room to Draco’s bedroom. He suspected they might have Apparated at some point, and was just grateful they hadn’t ended up Splinched.

Or – worse – in Draco’s parents’ bed. He was too tired to laugh at the thought, but he rather wanted to.

He’d never felt better in his _life_. His Alpha’s scent was all around him, seeping into his skin, filling his senses, and the weight of Draco's body covering him, holding him down, stretching his arse open on that huge knot – was _amazing_. But what was even better – what would _always_ be better than their physical intimacy, no matter how incredible, how _essential_ it was – was the complete _oneness_ of their bond. Every emotion was shared, _known_ , understood and accepted.

This was what it was supposed to be like between them, and he couldn’t believe he’d never realised how much he was missing.

“I love you,” he mumbled into the pillow. He didn’t have to say it out loud anymore, of course; Draco knew. But he wanted to, because he could, and because it made Draco smile.

Sure enough, he felt Draco smile against his shoulder a moment later, and he closed his eyes, reveling in it. 

“I love you, too,” Draco said. “You sound tired. Are you falling asleep on me, love?”

“Mm,” Harry said in agreement, snuggling deeper into the mattress. He groped backwards blindly, finding Draco’s hand and holding on tightly.

Draco chuckled, deep and low, and there was mischief in the bond between them. Harry groaned, his head jerking up just a split second before Draco thrust in a little deeper, hitting his prostate. He grunted. “ _Draco_.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Draco said, slipping a hand around Harry’s waist and closing it around his painfully over-sensitive cock. Harry made a hurt noise in his throat, and Draco shushed him, stroking gently. Relentlessly. “Such a good boy. Come for me, Harry.”

Harry whined. “ _Hurts_ , Draco.”

“I know,” Draco said, kissing the nape of his neck tenderly. “But I want you to come. Just one more time, and then I’ll let you go to sleep. Come on my knot, baby.”

There were tears in Harry’s eyes, but the heat was prickling over his skin, twisting him up in that unbearable arousal, painful and so good – always _so good_ – and he shook in Draco’s arms, trapped and forced into submission and loving it.

“D-Draco,” he gasped, and he knew Draco heard _Alpha_ through the bond.

“Yes,” Draco growled, fixing his teeth around the painful, throbbing bruise on Harry’s neck, and biting down ever-so-gently. Harry jerked, but Draco just held on, sucking a little, and Harry’s balls drew up. He came with a shout, seconds later, heat and agony and ecstasy and bliss exploding through their bond, and he never, ever wanted it to end.

~*~

His second heat lasted almost six days, much longer than his first – his body making up for lost time, Draco surmised. Snape’s, on the other hand, lasted well over a week, and as the days crept on and they saw neither his parents nor Snape, Draco decided to take them back to Hogwarts. Harry was in wholehearted agreement. His whole body ached, _fiercely_ , and he dreaded to think how his fellow Omega was feeling. He wasn’t even sure where some of these bruises on his body had _come_ from, and he was pretty sure that if his heat had lasted any longer, he would have sworn off sex for a _year_.

Or, all right – maybe a month.

Either way, Draco had been _merciless_ under the influence of his heat. All of his usually superior love-making skills swallowed up by raw, primal need; worse the longer they were subjected to Harry’s pheromones. By day five, Harry swore his cock had been _purple_.

“He’s going to _murder_ me,” he moaned, when Lucius sent word that it was over at last, _eleven_ days after Harry’s heat had triggered Snape’s own. “He’s going to hunt me down and _kill_ me.”

Draco just laughed quietly. They were sitting under the huge beech tree by the lake with Ron and Hermione, taking a break from the reconstruction of Gryffindor tower. Harry was sitting between his Alpha’s legs, leaning back into his embrace, Draco’s arms wrapped around his waist possessively. Much the same way Hermione’s hand was wrapped around Ron’s wrist as he lay sunning himself, in fact, and that made something warm expand inside Harry’s chest. 

His friends had always had such a _stable_ relationship. Even when they fought (and they _always_ fought), they never doubted each other. Their faith in each other was unshakeable. 

It had taken a year, but Harry thought he could _finally_ say the same for Draco and himself.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Draco said, obviously amused. “I’ll protect you.” 

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously,” Harry complained. “Do you have _any_ idea how I feel right now? And that’s _after_ you healed the worst of it.” Of course, Draco hadn’t healed all of it. He _liked_ the bruises on Harry, liked how his Omega couldn’t help tracing them in the mirror, or jerking off to the dull ache in his arse. “Eleven _days_ , Draco. Almost a whole fortnight! He could be _pregnant_. Merlin! You could have a little brother or sister in nine months! Salazar knows _we_ didn’t remember the contraceptives – we’re just lucky we –”

“Actually, I don’t think that was luck at all, Harry,” Hermione said, looking up from her Charms textbook. She was already studying for her NEWTs every spare moment she had, ever since Professor McGonagall had kindly invited them back for an ‘eighth year’ in a few months’ time. “The Horcrux – and then the stress of the war, and the way your heat couldn’t fix on Draco for so long – it’s no real surprise you weren’t impregnated this time around.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Ew, Hermione. Do you mind?” 

She rolled her eyes at him. “You’re an _Omega_ , Harry. You need to face up to the realities of that, including the need for contraceptives. You’re just _incredibly_ lucky you weren’t born a hundred years ago, when things were much, much worse –” Harry snorted rudely, and Hermione held up a hand, “I know, Harry, I _know_ , but it really was. The truth is, there’s so few of you now, there’s just not as much _opportunity_ for abuse, and the laws have relaxed somewhat. A hundred years ago, you would never have been allowed to take contraceptives. You shouldn’t take that for granted. You deserve to be _young_ for a while, without the burden and responsibility of a child. And that means being _careful_.”

Harry scowled. “You don’t have to tell me that, Hermione. It was an accident. And you don’t get to scold me for it. _Draco_ is my Alpha, not you. If anyone gets to scold me, it’s him.” Of course, Draco had done nothing of the sort. Instead, he’d apologised half a million times, until Harry had had to withhold sex just to make him _stop_ , because the truth was they were _both_ to blame. They were just really _fucking_ lucky the universe had decided to smile on them, for once. 

Hermione was right. They were too young for children. One day, perhaps. Harry was warming to the idea, slowly, and not just for his Alpha’s sake. He’d always wanted a proper family, and the idea of having that with Draco was surprisingly... okay.

But that didn’t mean another Alpha got to tell him how to live his life – even if that Alpha was his best friend.

He only realised that he was stiff with anger when Draco stroked gentle hands down his arms, shushing him. Harry sighed, making an effort to relax back into his Alpha’s arms. “Sorry,” he muttered, reluctantly.

“No,” Hermione said, and her voice was so contrite that Harry looked up at her again. “Don’t, Harry. I should be the one apologising. You’re right. It was an unprecedented situation, your heat stalling like that. It must have been – _horribly_ overwhelming when it came back on.”

Overwhelming, yes, Harry thought. Horrible – anything _but_.

“Anyway, I have no right to judge,” Hermione said. “I just – I _worry_ about you, Harry. The more I learn about Omega law, the more I realise just how much needs to change.”

“Well, if anyone can force the wizarding world to change centuries of wizarding tradition and law, it’s you,” Harry said, honestly.

“Bloody right,” Ron interjected, loyally, without even opening his eyes.

Hermione looked pleased. “Maybe,” she agreed slowly. “It would certainly be a worthwhile cause. It would be a worthwhile _career_ , in fact. Omegas are so rare now, and no one knows why. It’s possible it was because the Wild Magic couldn’t bear to see its children abused, year after year. If there was a resurgence in the future – if we ever _want_ to see a resurgence, and not let Omegas die out forever – we have a _duty_ to make sure those children are never used and exploited the way our ancestors were.”

Draco looked thoughtful. “That kind of change will take a lifetime, Granger,” he said quietly. “There might be some laws that have been relaxed, out of necessity, but the fact is that Harry wouldn’t even have his _name_ if I hadn’t documented it in the ownership papers. Everything he has – everything he _is_ – belongs to me, by law. He has no right to vote, no right to seek medical care without my consent, no right to schooling, to work, to money or property of his own. I could chain him up in the Manor’s dungeon and torture him every day for the rest of his life, and no one in the wizarding world could legally intervene.”

Ron was up and bristling in an instant. “If you fucking _dare_ –”

“Ron,” Hermione said, gently, and he subsided, still glowering. “Come on. You _know_ he wouldn’t. How many times did he sacrifice his own health and well-being – to the point of nearly _killing_ himself – for Harry over the last year? And anyway, it’s _Harry_. Maybe no one could _legally_ intervene, but there would be enough outcry that the Ministry would _have_ to do something. Or, at least – _try_.”

“Exactly,” Draco agreed. “Harry and Severus – they’re both war heroes, now. It would be a lot of work, and would require a great deal of both political and financial backing, but I think if you’re really dedicated, really _committed_ to this, Hermione, for the long run – it might be possible, in a way it never was before. And – I am prepared to throw both the Malfoy name and my vaults behind you should you choose to do so.”

“Draco,” Harry whispered, and Draco pressed a kiss to his temple. 

_I told you_ , he said, through their bond. _Anything for you_.

Harry smiled, threading his fingers into Draco’s. His Alpha might not have been given the recognition he deserved for the war, but he would always be _Harry’s_ hero.

Hermione looked between them both. “I’ll think about it,” she said, seriously. “I _abhor_ slavery, and Harry – it could so easily have gone badly wrong for you. I knew so _little_ then – if Snape hadn’t been there that day, the first day you went into heat – he stopped the other students claiming you, and he stopped Dumbledore from trying to separate you from Draco and just – just _give_ you to some other Alpha. I hate to think what would have happened to you, then. To us _all_. I know we were dubious about Draco to start with, but he proved us wrong. Without him – you defeated _Voldemort_ together.”

Draco stiffened. “It wasn't me,” Harry said instantly.

“I worked it out myself,” Hermione said, frowning. “And I think it’s admirable, Draco. Truly. But it shouldn’t have been necessary. The bond between you – you saved the _world_ together. And the world deserves to know the truth about how that came about. But that can’t happen until things change. And they _have_ to change – for Harry’s sake, and all those who come after him.”

“And those who came before me,” Harry murmured, thinking about Snape. Who had suffered far, far more than Harry ever would. “Merlin, I really hope he’s okay.”

Draco’s arms tightened around him. “Severus is _fine_ , Harry, stop worrying. We’ll go see him later this week, I promise.”

Harry twisted in his arms to stare at him incredulously. “Are you _mad_? Draco, I _triggered his heat_. A heat he hasn’t had for _sixteen years_! Or more! If he’s pregnant –”

“He’s not,” Draco said calmly.

“How can you _possibly_ –”

“He’s right, Harry,” Hermione interrupted, gently. “Professor Snape has been on suppressants for so long, I very much doubt anything but the most radical medical intervention will allow him to get pregnant now.”

It took a moment to sink in, and then Harry blew out a hard breath. “Thank _fucking_ Merlin,” he said. Somehow he doubted Snape would ever forgive him for making him lose control like that, but at least there wouldn’t be any – long-term consequences. “He’s still going to kill me,” he decided, and Draco nipped his ear hard enough that he yelped in surprise.

“You’re _mine_ , Harry. No one’s laying a _hand_ on you, understand? Not _ever_.” 

Draco’s possessiveness and worry and love was coming clearly through their bond, and Harry couldn’t help but smile. He remembered Draco making that same promise to him, once before, but it had been less than meaningless at the time. That first, troubled heat, he'd barely known his own _name_ , let alone Draco's. Since then, they’d survived a year on the run together, starving and terrified and fighting an evil that had almost consumed them all. And now he knew what it actually _meant_ to be Draco’s, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, as the Muggle vows went, and it was a promise _worth_ holding on to. 

“I’m yours,” he agreed, enjoying the words as they rolled off his tongue. After everything they’d been through, he _deserved_ this. Deserved Draco. 

There was a gentle touch to the side of his neck; Draco’s fingers tracing his mark on Harry’s skin. Harry shivered as he pressed into it, just a little – just enough that it sent a spark of pain and pleasure racing through his nerves.

“If Malfoy’s going all Alpha on your arse, we’re out of here,” Ron warned, and Harry smirked, letting himself melt back into his Alpha’s embrace, nuzzling into Draco’s neck.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Right, yes. Of course. We’ll head back. Pickering and the others will be wondering where we are.”

Draco stiffened, but Harry refused to let him think about the other Alphas who had tried to claim him. Instead, he tugged on their bond, _forcing_ Draco to pay attention to his utter _lack_ of interest in anyone but Draco – his true mate, his Alpha, his one and only love. Draco made a pleased noise, and bent his head to latch his mouth onto Harry’s mark, sucking lightly. Harry cried out, his cock hardening so fast his head spun, the rest of his body going limp and pliable and _Draco’s_.

“Wait, wait, wait, we’re going!” Ron said hastily, scrambling to his feet. “Jeez, you two are insatiable! Six _days_ , and you’re _still_ –” Hermione leveled a look at him, and he cut himself off abruptly.

Harry was bright red, and he couldn’t quite meet his friends’ eyes, just thanking Merlin and all the Founders for his concealing robes. “We’ll be along soon,” he said, trying not to squeak when Draco’s hands started to burrow inside his robes. There was a barely audible growl from his Alpha, and he corrected himself, “An hour, I mean! We'll be along in an hour! Or two!”

Hermione smiled at them, far too fondly in Harry’s opinion. “Take your time. We’re – we're really happy for you both, you know?”

“Yeah, mate,” Ron said quietly, suddenly serious. He wasn’t looking at them, a flush just under his collar (and Harry was just glad _someone_ other than him was at least a _little_ embarrassed), but he was obviously in earnest. “Malfoy might not have been who I'd have chosen for you – but then, none of us would have chosen him. And we would have all been wrong. He's good for you, and he makes you happy, and that means _we're_ happy for you.”

There was a prickle of tears in the corner of Harry's eyes, and he cleared his throat. “Thanks, guys,” he said, and they smiled at him and turned to head up to the castle together.

~*~

“You’re not ready for more sex,” Draco said.

His Alpha was a comforting warmth at his back, his hand on Harry’s bare stomach, just resting there possessively, not even _attempting_ to slip down any further. Harry sighed regretfully. “Not really, no.”

“You’re worried about something,” Draco said. “And don’t tell me it’s Severus murdering you in your sleep, because you know as well as I do the man has a soft spot the size of a dragon’s nest for you.”

Harry squinted back at his Alpha dubiously. “How big is a dragon’s –”

“Big,” Draco said, his tone brooking no arguments. “And don’t try to distract me. What are you _really_ worried about?”

Harry shrugged awkwardly, looking away. “I don’t know. I guess – it’s just weird, you know, not having a purpose anymore? Hermione’s going into law, and then she wants to do – I don’t know, politics or whatever it is – and Ron’s determined to make it in professional Quidditch, and Ginny wants to go into Magical Law Enforcement... and I – I was the Boy Who Lived, and then the Chosen One... and now I’m free, and I don’t know who I _am_ anymore.”

“You’re mine,” Draco said, simply.

“Yes,” Harry agreed. And Merlin knew he was grateful for it. “But it can’t be _all_ I am, Draco. Just like you’re mine, but you’re also a Slytherin, and a Malfoy. You want kids, and you want to be a Potions Master, and dabble in politics, and maybe one day even run for a seat on the Wizengamot. I don’t have any of that. I don’t know what my ambitions are – who I am, who I _want_ to be.”

“You used to want to be an Auror,” Draco offered, tentatively. 

Harry blinked in surprise. “I did,” he said slowly, a little surprised that his Alpha knew that. Being an Auror was an old dream, from before the war. “That’s a dangerous job, though. Would you really let me do that? Would _they_ let me do that?”

Draco was quiet for a long moment. “I wouldn't be happy about it,” he admitted. “But it’s not up to me, Harry. And it’s not up to them, either. There’s a large part of me that wants to wrap you up in magical protections and keep you safe and warm and pregnant at home – wherever that home may be – but I know that wouldn’t make you happy. And that wouldn't make _me_ happy. So if you want to be an Auror – I’ll support you. I think you’d be the first Omega _ever_ , but then, the Ministry needs a good shaking up. I’d take them on with you, if you wanted. After all, they won’t have a leg to stand on if they try the ‘precious Omegas need taking care of’ card. You took _Voldemort_ down for them.”

Harry stared at him, feeling more than a little moved. “Thank you,” he said. “That means –” He shook his head wordlessly.

Draco smiled gently. “I know,” he said, and Harry realised he did.

“I don't want to be an Auror,” he said. “I haven't for a long time, now. I've been the boy who fights evil my whole life. I want to spend my life doing good – I just – I never want to face someone across another battlefield, and know I could be leaving you alone forever. Is that selfish?”

Draco looked relieved. “Not even a little bit,” he said firmly. “Even if you went and lived in luxury on some secluded island, every whim being tended to by others and not lifting a _finger_ for the remainder of your life, it still wouldn’t be selfish. You’ve done enough for _lifetimes_ of selfishness, and even then, the wizarding world still couldn’t repay you.”

Harry didn’t scoff, but only because he knew his Alpha well enough by now to know he would pin Harry down and attempt to _talk_ him into seeing it his way, and he was far too comfortable like this to want to move. (Also because Draco was _very_ convincing, and Harry wasn’t sure yet that he wanted to be convinced.)

“But there are dozens of careers where you could make a difference – do _good_ – and never have to fight anyone ever again,” Draco continued. He ducked his head again to kiss the mark on Harry’s neck again, making him shiver. “Honestly, if I thought for one minute you’d obey me, I would order you never to go near even a friendly _dueling_ competition, let alone a Dark wizard determined to murder you.”

Harry smirked. “Of course you would. Alpha.”

Draco sighed. “Guilty. Still – there’s teaching, or Healing, or retail, or politics, just to name a few. And you could make an enormous difference in _any_ of those fields, not just through the work you do, but by being an _Omega_ doing that work.”

Harry grimaced. “Whatever I do, it’s going to be an uphill battle, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Draco said. “But one _without_ fights to the death, or insane Dark Lords, or evil fragments of murderous souls attached to yours. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. We’ve got a year left at Hogwarts – that’s plenty of time to plan our assault on the wizarding world’s outdated, archaic notions of proper Alpha-Omega bond-mates.”

Harry grinned, struggling out of his Alpha’s arms to turn and kneel in front of him. “Have I mentioned recently how much I love you?”

“Recently?” Draco said, pretending to consider. He was pouting at being denied access to Harry’s skin, and Harry thought it was adorable. “How recent do you consider ‘recently’? Do you mean today, or in the last hour, or in the last few minutes, because you definitely haven't –”

Harry leaned forward and kissed him. Draco opened his mouth, coaxing Harry’s tongue inside and sucking, stroking his hands over Harry’s shoulders and down his arms, claiming him.

It was a kiss that said _I love you_ , but Harry could hear the actual words through their bond now, too, and his heart swelled until he thought he might _burst_ with happiness. The war was over, Voldemort was dead, his Alpha loved him, their bond was fixed, and – miraculously enough – they’d survived his second heat. They had their whole _lives_ stretched out in front of them, full of endless possibilities, and it was _brilliant_.

But for now – for now, he just wanted to kiss, and be kissed, and that was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left comments and kudos on both Harry Potter and the Alpha-Omega Bond, and Second Heat! Your lovely words have been so very much appreciated! I would love to hear what you think about the ending, if you're so inclined. Thank you again! xxx


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